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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048994">Don't Let Go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterroadtripper/pseuds/masterroadtripper'>masterroadtripper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Let Go Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Typical Triggers, Coming Out, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor is a bartender, Depression, Emotional support animal, Evan as a Park Ranger, Eventual Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Hospitalization, Implied Sexual Content, In-patient therapy, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of past self harm, Panic Attacks, Repairing Relationships, Rocky is an emotional support animal, Sibling Bonding, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, mentions of past Evan Hansen/Jared Kleinman, mentions of past suicide attempts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:08:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>58,404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterroadtripper/pseuds/masterroadtripper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Connor's dog Rocky runs away while at Ellison State Park on a walk, Connor reunites with the one person from high school that he never thought he'd see again.  </p><p>Evan closed the door on who he was in high school years ago.  Besides, the last time he had seen Connor, they had both been in the tenth grade.  He never thought that he'd see him stumbling through Ellison State Park on the verge of an anxiety attack.  </p><p>The story where an animal brings them together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Jared Kleinman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Let Go Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>237</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rocky's Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a few quick facts to make this AU make a little more sense...</p><p>- Connor left for Hanover after grade 10 and managed to complete grade 11 and 12 there while Evan stayed at public school.  They knew of each other but were not friends.</p><p>- They are now 21 (three years out of high school) and haven't crossed paths since grade 10.  </p><p>As well, potential trigger warnings will be posted before each chapter in this section just in case.  </p><p>Thank you for taking the time to click on this story and give it a try!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor was embarrassed when he realized that his dog had run off. The little voice in the back of Connor’s head was screaming that this was exactly what his father had said would happen if he ever got a dog. He was simply too irresponsible to take care of another living organism. Which wasn’t exactly true, because Rocky was three years old and this was the first time he’d ever run away from Connor, but, in his father’s defence, he <em>had</em> killed his fish back in the seventh grade.</p><p>He had fallen asleep under a tree. Between school in the morning and work in the evening, Connor had decided that he wanted to bring Rocky for a longer walk than usual, even though the dog had already been out of the house that morning. There were many good things that had come from registering Rocky as an Emotional Support Animal and being able to have him by his side at any given time, and one of them was bringing him to school. Sadly, Rocky never came to work with him as the bar was not only incredibly loud and crowded, but also, quite frankly, filthy and not a good place for <em>any</em> animal. And if Connor returned to his apartment at midnight on the verge of a panic attack every night, his boss didn’t need to know.</p><p>Woken from his unintentional nap by the shrieking of young children, Connor turned to scratch Rocky between the ears, just as his medium-brown Newfoundlander loved. When his hand only felt grass, Connor sat up fast enough to see swirling colours in front of his eyes as he frantically looked around for his dog. Rocky was nowhere to be seen and the red leash and vest that Rocky had to wear were gone as well.</p><p>Grabbing his bag and jacket, Connor stood and tried to gather his thoughts, willing away all the panic and anxiety. If he had an attack now, he didn’t know what would happen. He hadn’t been alone through one of those since Rocky had entered his life and he was brutally unprepared to deal with it now. So he focused his thoughts to be analytical instead of emotional and considered his options. Nothing really stuck as Connor stumbled down the hill he had climbed up to rest on and do some people watching.</p><p>Suddenly, he was met with the crunching of gravel under his brown running shoes and briefly allowed himself a moment away from worrying about Rocky to wonder at what point he had managed to make it to a path. Deciding that he was best off to stay on the path, Connor kept walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets, lost in his own rapidly swirling and uncontrollable train of thought.</p><p>“Excuse me?” a soft voice said from somewhere over Connor’s left shoulder, but not loud enough or specifically aimed towards him to actually cause him to turn around or acknowledge the person who had spoken.</p><p>“Hey, are you okay?” the voice said again, louder, closer and accompanied by a light touch to his shoulder.</p><p>That caused Connor to spin on his heel, the touch sending hot spikes of fire up his arm and into his shoulder. It felt like he had been burned and the force in which he had turned around caused him to get his feet tangled in each other and suddenly, Connor was looking up at a park ranger from his location on the ground. The park ranger was wearing an Ellison State Park uniform and a wide-brimmed hat, which, due to the bright sun at their back, obscured his face. The only defining feature was the fact that he had a neatly trimmed, lightly coloured beard framing his jaw.</p><p>“Sorry,” Connor managed to force out as he scrambled to his feet, adjusting his bag and jacket, trying to force eye contact with the park ranger. It was awkward and made him want to rip his own hair out, but he did it anyway because <em>that is what normal people do Connor.</em></p><p>The park ranger grasped his belt tightly, almost like a cowboy would and the muscles in his arms flexed. And damn if that wasn’t attractive. Which was most certainly not what Connor needed to be thinking about when he still didn’t know where Rocky was. Someone could have abducted him and be on the Jersey Turnpike by now and here was Connor, admiring the park ranger.</p><p>“Are you okay?” the ranger asked, taking one hand from its place on the buckle to adjust his hat before returning it to its former location.</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor grunted out, “I’m fine.”</p><p>“You’re breathing really fast, are you sure you don’t want to come to the ranger station and just cool off for a little?” the ranger offered, motioning down the path, presumably towards the ranger station. As much as Connor hated to admit it, he was warm, though, he assumed that that was what he deserved for going out in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and jacket in the heat of September.</p><p>“I guess…,” Connor started before swallowing, trying to prevent his voice from shaking as he continued, “I think I could, yeah.”</p><p>“Alright, just this way,” the ranger said, starting to walk slowly down the path, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Connor was following. With a small smile, Connor willed his legs to move as the gravel started crunching under his feet again.</p>
<hr/><p>The ranger station was smaller than Connor remembered it. Though, the last time he’d ever been inside it was on his ninth birthday when he’d ran away from his parents and sister and a different ranger had found him wandering the paths. To a nine-year-old, the ranger station had been huge, though, to Connor, now twenty-one, it was a pretty average-sized building that you would expect for a station at a state park.</p><p>Around the wooden building, painted with the Ellison State Park ranger logo on one side where an array of vehicles from private cars to trucks and ATVs. There were park benches out under a massive tree behind the building and an air conditioning unit hanging out a window. At least one room in the ranger station was guaranteed to be cool.</p><p>There was something about the park ranger that made Connor want to explain to him why he’d been stumbling on the path. Because, even though the male ranger seemed outwardly confident, there was just something about the way he held tight to his belt or played with his hat that indicated an underlying lack of composure. Like speaking to Connor for even five minutes was going to cause him to implode on the spot. He knew a little something about that feeling.</p><p>But, as they walked through the door of the station and Connor heard gruff snuffling followed by an excited yip, all other thoughts occupying his brain vanished. Claws against concrete flooring and the overwhelmed chirp of, “the dogs bolting,” from one of the rooms in the building was all Connor could hear as the massive bulk of Rocky skidded around the corner, and crashed into the opposite wall before barrelling towards him and the ranger.</p><p>“Rocky,” Connor exclaimed, going down to his knees and let his dog coat his face in excited kisses. The ranger stood beside him, looking down with a massive smile on his face that Connor couldn’t see through the medium brown hair that he’d mashed his face into, just letting himself breathe and slow his heart and his thoughts.</p><p>“C’mon boy,” Connor said with a laugh, gently pushing him back a little, “Where’d you go Rocky, you scared me.”</p><p>“I assume that dog is yours?” the ranger said, though Connor found it impossible to formulate a reply once he looked up at the ranger, once again, from his position on his rear.</p><p>It couldn’t be.</p><p>There was a reason Connor moved to the opposite side of the city after high school. The person he was then was not the person he was now. It was undeniable that he’d gone to school with this park ranger. Even though he’d grown a beard and his hair was significantly less immaculate than the boy he’d gone to school with all those years ago, without the beige hat shading his face, it was him. The boy he'd had a crush on for as long as he could remember.  Evan Hansen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Impulse Decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Most of Evan’s best decisions were made entirely on impulse. By extension, all of his worst decisions were also made on impulse. Currently, he wasn’t sure if this was a good impulse decision, a bad impulse decision or just the one part of his brain that took over whenever he was working at the park. He simply didn’t like to see others suffer, and this guy who was now sitting on the floor of the ranger station was not in any state of mind to be making decisions.</p><p>Evan had gotten better since high school ended, he really had. Suddenly able to make crucial life decisions entirely on his own and not be trapped inside a school, Evan found himself quickly rising through the ranks of the Park Ranger Service to the point where, over the summer, he had been promoted to Secondary Warden. It was the life he had always wanted, and, it turns out that regularly taking his meds, attending and legitimately trying in therapy actually were helping. He wasn’t fixed, he wasn’t perfect, but he was better.</p><p>Though, when he approached the tall lanky guy stumbling on the paths of Ellison that afternoon, the last person he expected to see was the quiet and moody kid that had sat behind him in math class their entire second semester of tenth grade. Yes, Evan remembered. How could he not? Every single minute of that class was occupied with the terrifying thoughts that Jared had planted in his mind that the guy was going to stab him in the back.</p><p>Connor Murphy, that was his name. It jumped into Evan’s head as Connor pushed himself to standing from where he had fallen on the path. Fallen because Evan had gently rested his hand on Connor’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. That movement, the sudden jerk backwards accompanied by the tangling of his feet caused him to fall and suddenly, Evan wondered if Connor had always been that jumpy. He certainly had kept to himself in high school, and while the last time he had ever seen him was in the tenth grade, people were capable of change. Evan decided to remind himself of that fact a second time as Connor adjusted his bag on his shoulder, eyes darting around nervously.</p><p>Regardless of who he was, Evan could spot a panic attack from a mile away. Which, under normal circumstances, was never good. But considering the fact that it was currently really warm outside for a mid-September day and that Connor’s face was extremely red, Evan realized that he was definitely on the verge of heat exhaustion. Besides, it was too warm out for him to be wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans, so some air conditioning and water would be good for him. Evan’s old boss would have called his decision to bring Connor back to the station, “preventative ranger duties.” If he could prevent Connor from getting heatstroke, that would be one less call to 9-1-1 that would have to be made and that’d just make everyone’s lives easier.</p><p>Evan had forgotten that they’d found a dog near the eastern lake almost a half-hour ago. He’d gotten into one of the trucks with their youngest junior park ranger to go pick up the dog that had been reported and what struck Evan as odd at the time was the fact that it was wearing a vest, indicating that it was an emotional support animal. So, after bringing the very lovely dog back to the ranger station, Evan had taken to the paths to see if anyone was looking for a brown Newfoundland Water Dog and that was when he’d come across Connor.</p><p>When Connor and the dog had reunited, Evan couldn’t prevent himself from smiling. The bond that the two had was obviously insanely strong and the second that Connor pressed his face into the soft brown fur of the dog, Evan watched as his breathing started evening out. They had found the owner and Evan realized that this Connor Murphy was not the same one that he was terrified of murdering him in the tenth grade.</p><p>Then, the only thing his brain could decide to say was, “I assume this dog is yours,” and Evan promptly wanted to kick himself. Sure he was the Secondary Warden at Ellison, but that didn’t mean that sometimes his brain stopped coming up with things and managed to make him say it before his censor kicked in.</p><p>At that moment, when Connor looked up at him, his eyes unclouded by anxiety for the first time that afternoon, Evan was struck with the feeling of, “he’s actually really attractive.” It wasn’t that this was a particularly new feeling for Evan as he’d realized his affinity for both sexes a little while ago, but it did strike him as odd that he felt that way towards the one person that he’d been deathly terrified of for years. All thanks to Jared really. At least his childhood best friend was an entire state away for school now.</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor grunted out finally, like his brain was still struggling to reconnect.</p><p>“So...what’s his name?” Evan asked.</p><p>As Connor met his eyes, bright blue and brown shining in the sunlight from the window across the room, Evan decided not to mention the fact that they most certainly knew each other and had for quite some time. If there was one thing that Evan knew for a fact was going to ruin any perception of himself in front of others was bringing up the fact that he was an absolute train wreck of a human for at least thirteen years. Secondary Warden Evan Hansen was a much cooler person than Human Train Wreck Evan Hansen. While his mother always said that it was better to be yourself, it wasn’t that Evan was lying or being someone he wasn’t, he just wasn’t bringing up the past. It was probably better for both of them.</p><p>“Rocky,” Connor said before pushing himself to his feet and twisting the leash tight around his hand. The large dog - Rocky - obediently pushed himself to sitting at Connor’s side, its eyes looking up at its master like he had single-handedly hung the moon.</p><p>“You want some water or something?” Evan asked, “Jill got Rocky some water when we found him.”</p><p>“Um sure,” Connor said, his hand starting to purple from the force in which he was holding onto Rocky’s leash with, “and..uh...thanks for looking after him.”</p><p>“No problem, its why we’re here,” Evan replied, beginning to lead Connor towards the kitchen area of the station, “besides, he was really well behaved.”</p><p>“I should hope so,” Connor muttered and gently tugged on the leash, getting Rocky to follow.</p><p>In the kitchen, Evan poured two glasses of water and refilled the ceramic bowl that Rocky had been using before placing it on the floor. Passing over the cup, Connor just looked down at it like it had contributed to all the wrongs of the world. That, or he had no idea how to continue, which, really was a feeling that Evan knew well.</p><p>Taking Connor out of his misery, Evan said, “Just sit and drink it then I’ll let you get on with your day.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, pulling out one of the chairs at the round table and gently sitting at it and giving Rocky a silent command. Obeying it, the dog laid down at Connor’s feet and the taller boy let the leash untangle itself slightly, blood flooding the limb.</p><p>“Why’re you doing this?” Connor asked before taking a large drink from his cup of water.</p><p>The look in his eyes was one Evan recognized too well. He had seen it staring back at him in the mirror more times than he could count. Fear and a lack of understanding mixed with ranging anxiety and perhaps a splash of paranoia thrown in for good measure. Like he was just waiting for the catch. They’d both changed a lot since grade ten. This Connor Murphy was not the same kid that Evan was terrified of.</p><p>“Because I really don’t want to call 9-1-1 today,” Evan said before he felt his eyes widen with a shiver of anxiety racing up his spine before he slapped a hand over his mouth. His filter seemed off for the day.</p><p>“Okay…,” Connor said before finishing off the rest of his cup and slamming it down on the table a little harshly, “C’mon Rocky, lets get home, yeah?”</p><p>As Connor stood from the table abruptly, Evan tried not to cringe at the horrible scrap of metal on concrete and watched as the two of them began to move towards the door. Instead of saying anything, Evan just watched, the events of the past fifteen minutes hitting him like a cement truck. He stood and wanted to follow Connor but no matter how hard he tried to tell his legs to work, he found himself not moving.</p><p>“Um...thanks again for the water and um...finding Rocky,” Connor managed to grunt out, making eye contact, barely, before pulling open the door and walking away.</p><p>Collapsing back down onto the chair, Evan ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the lengthening brown waves maybe slightly harder than needed. This was definitely a bad impulse decision. At least he did do one good thing. Rocky found his owner. Though now, Evan was starting to wonder just how much Connor had actually changed since the tenth grade.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1) if anyone out there is a dog owner or emotional support animal owner and wouldn't mind sharing some main challenges/benefits/things to keep in mind, I would be extremely grateful as I have never owned an animal for a day in my life.</p><p>2) I have this headcanon that Jared went to MIT for college, and, assuming that Dear Evan Hansen takes place in/near New York, Massachusetts would be one state away</p><p>Is this story good thus far?  I'm really liking writing it, hopefully it's coming across well!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Not The College Type</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor dragged himself through the front door of the Spillway Bar and Grill while desperately trying to pull his work persona on. Sidestepping a family that was just on their way out the door before the bar closed their doors to anyone underage, Connor felt the familiar tug of anxiety on the corners of his chest but tried to shove it down. He had eight hours of work to get through and if he could put his effort into that and not lashing out at others, maybe he could have a good shift.</p><p>After storming away from Evan, Connor and Rocky had walked home and had then sat at the table in their apartment for hours, just staring at the wall and wondering how he’d managed to screw up yet another conversation. He’d let his emotions and paranoia get ahead of him, yet again, instead of listening to what his therapist had told him. De-escalation was the key and Connor’s brain was the lock. Sadly, he forgot what pocket the key was kept in sometimes.</p><p>“Hey Connor,” Lee shouted from the host station before Connor could slip past. It wasn’t that Connor didn’t like Lee, he actually didn’t mind him at all, out of all their co-workers, he wasn’t that bad, but Lee just possessed more energy, ridiculous questions and antics than Connor wished to field at the moment.</p><p>“Hey,” Connor muttered, slipping through the door on the side of the bar and stashing his bag behind it in the cubby that he kept open specifically for that purpose.</p><p>Connor really didn’t mind working at the Spillway Bar and Grill. His boss, Asa, was a great guy, always really calm and collected and for the most part, the rest of his coworkers weren’t horrible either. The bar attracted a generally decent crowd, but due to the partial grill feature, they rarely dealt with people looking to get seriously sloshed or start something. He would say it was more of a family establishment, but really, it was a bar. Not really for families after six pm anyways.</p><p>“So, any big plans for the weekend?” Lee asked from his station, leaning on the pedestal they had there for the grill side of Spillway’s and smiling at Connor with this lopsided grin. Not that he’d ever act on it, but sometimes, Connor just wished he could walk over there and wipe it off his face.</p><p>“Homework,” Connor answered before going in search of a cloth to wipe down the counter of the bar and maybe turn on the lights. Benefits of being the first bartender around. Or, the only. Usually, Asa came in on weekends and Friday nights due to the influx of people at the bar. Plus, Asa just loved people, so when he came in, Connor didn’t have to worry about dealing with the talking aspect of bartending.</p><p>“You?” Connor tacked onto the end of his previous clipped statement, remembering what his therapist said about trying to engage with people. His coworkers were people, so he was trying to engage with them. He wasn’t sure if it was working or not, but at least he was trying.</p><p>“Mr. Studious over there. Wouldn’t peg you as the college type you know,” Lee said before adding, “Just going to the beach with some high school friends. Nothing exciting.”</p><p>Connor tried to refrain from throwing something at Lee. That was one thing that he hadn’t done in a while. No more throwing things. The last thing he’d thrown in anger was a beaker in chemistry class in the twelfth grade and he’d refrained since. Because it just wasn’t that satisfying. It was actually the most satisfying to calm himself down with Rocky, but Rocky couldn’t come to the bar.</p><p>He hated the fact that people didn’t think he’d be the school type. Maybe it was his long hair or tendency to wear shades of grey and black that made people think he was still the high school stoner type. Maybe he needed a haircut and a closet make-over, but Connor liked how he was now. Visually, he hadn’t changed much since high school, aside from putting on a few much-needed pounds here and there, but mentally, he thought he was improving. Getting better meant trying. He was trying, but it was hard.</p><p>But really, it was Lee’s comment about high school friends that Connor thought was getting to him the most. Before the eleventh grade when he’d switched to an all-boys boarding school, Connor had never had any friends at school and those he’d had as a kid had abandoned him for other people who weren’t as explosive as he was. By the end of the eleventh grade though, Connor found himself friendless yet again when his only friend at Hanover had managed to get expelled for pot possession. He wished that he could say that he’d managed to keep in contact with Miguel after he got kicked out, but Connor hadn’t. So no, he had no high school friends to go to the beach with and really, he had no university friends yet either, even though it had been three years. Logically, he knew that that was just his jealousy speaking, but it didn’t help that it was true.</p><p>Thankfully, before Connor could say anything wrong and freak out in front of or at Lee, a couple walked through the front door of the establishment, saving Connor from their doomed conversation. Turning around to deal with cleaning up the bar, Connor started whistling to himself. Just some mundane song that he’d heard on the radio at some point and was stuck in his head, a few bars on repeat.</p><p>“My sister has this friend,” a woman’s voice from behind Connor said teasingly and he suddenly wanted to smash a liquor bottle over her head. Or his own head. That would work too. Stupid intrusive thoughts.</p><p>Connor tucked his inner voice away as he turned to face Olivia, one of the waitresses, who loved to try to set him up with anyone and anyone she could think of. On more than one occasion, she’d announced that she could fix all his problems by getting him laid. If that was true, Connor would have been fixed a long time ago.</p><p>“And she is single and rather hot, if I do say so myself,” Olivia continued, leaning on the bar, her very low-cut top exposing more skin than Connor ever needed to see. Not that it was attractive in any way, but Olivia didn’t need to know that he didn’t swing her way. Or that way at all. Better to let her keep failing at setting him up with her female friends than her male friends.</p><p>“Great,” Connor muttered, scrubbing down a particularly sticky spot on the bar with more attention than it probably required.</p><p>“So do you want her number?” Olivia asked.</p><p>“Nope,” Connor replied, “I’m in school, remember. Don’t exactly have time for that kind of thing while getting my degree.”</p><p>Which wasn’t exactly true. If a hot guy asked him out, Connor would say yes. If Miguel showed up out of thin air and asked him out, Connor would probably say yes. If Evan Hansen asked him out, Connor would say hell yeah. But it wasn’t that any of those things were going to happen anytime in the near future, so it still wasn’t something that he had to worry about. At all.</p><p>“You know, I slept around quite a lot while getting my degree,” Olivia argued, dumping her phone on the bar, a photo of what Connor assumed was her friend face-up.</p><p>Connor snorted to himself, thinking of his sister. While on that thought, Connor reminded himself to phone her sometime soon. Maybe Zoe would like that friend. Olivia could set the two of them up. It would probably work out better that way anyway.</p><p>“Yeah, how’d that work out for you?” Connor muttered, though he was fairly certain Olivia didn’t her him anyways, with how loud the bar was starting to get, the sizzling of the kitchen from behind him combining with the chatter from the grill area.</p><p>“She says she’s available all weekend,” Olivia continued.</p><p>“I have to write a paper this weekend,” Connor said, adding, “Pass,” onto the end of his statement before turning towards the door leaning into the kitchen, signalling the conversation was over.</p><p>The kitchen was warm but not terribly uncomfortable as he opened the door to the big ice fridge to grab a bag to bring back to the smaller fridge at the bar, a route he’d have to make at varying times throughout the evening. Cold on his hands, Connor felt the ice melting a little as he brought it back to the mini-fridge under the bar, just in time for the bar clock to turn over to 6:00 pm, signalling its official opening.</p><p>A couple of people sat at the bar and suddenly, Connor was occupied, filling bowls with bar munchies and filling drink orders. He liked working as a bartender. Usually, early enough in the night, he’d get himself a shot of vodka and suddenly, he was much better at interacting with the customers. Thankfully, Asa didn’t care, as long as the patrons were happy and Connor kept up his excellent track record of never messing up drinks in any way.</p><p>Making drinks was easy. They all had a certain formula and it was the same thing each time. Modifications were simple and only to a certain extent. Besides, it was extremely satisfying to make something and see it come to life as he mixed it up. He wasn’t too much into flair-tending, the kind of bartending where he made cool drinks, but the best he’d ever done was manage to pour six drinks from one tumbler that all turned out all different colours of the rainbow. The creation had only worked once, back in June, for pride month.</p><p>“Hey man,” someone said, followed by a couple of people sitting down on either side of the person who had spoken. Connor looked up and recognized the guy who had spoken, with four others that he knew he’d seen at least once or twice before. He didn’t know what his name was, or the names of the rest of anyone else in the group, but they showed up every Friday night for a couple of drinks before paying their tab and peacefully leaving.</p><p>“Hey, how many beers can I get for y’all tonight?” Connor asked with a smile, the taste of vodka still on his tongue.</p><p>“Eight,” the guy replied. Which was more than usual, but Connor didn’t question it. Maybe they’d found a new friend to bring with them.</p><p>“Alright, coming right up,” Connor announced, ducking down behind the bar to grab eight bottles of beer of the only brand they’d ever sold at Spillway.</p><p>When he stood, three more people had joined the first group and as Connor looked up, a pair of bright blue eyes met his own and he froze. Of course, he was here. Evan Hansen, standing in the middle of Spillway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Drink Often?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a reason that Evan didn’t like going to bars. They were dark, crowded, loud and usually smelled bad. Yet, his coworkers weren’t having it when he said that, once again, he didn’t want to go out for a drink. Besides, Evan didn’t even like drinking. It wasn’t that he never did it, but it just never really was something he enjoyed.</p><p>Tonight, he was tired, hot and just was not in the mood for having to socialize any longer than usual. Really, all he wanted to do was go home, reheat the leftover spaghetti in the fridge while rewatching some episodes of Brooklyn 99. Though, here he was, in the passenger seat of Fred’s truck, on the way to some bar, because, for whatever reason tonight was the night Evan couldn’t force himself to say no.</p><p>He was brutally underprepared for any time spent in a bar. Planning on going straight home, Evan had nothing else to wear other than his clothes from the park. As well, his Lexapro bottle was at home, because, in the three years he’d had a full time job at the park, he hadn’t needed it since his third week. Turns out, when he was good at something, his anxiety was much easier to manage. Amazing what a little confidence could do.</p><p>Evan’s bus route went past Spillway Bar and Grill anytime he took it to get to the park, so logically, he knew it was there. Yet, as they pulled into the parking lot, Evan wondered why he’d never actually gone into it before. Then he remembered, he didn’t like bars. Not one little bit. Though still, Evan took off as much of his park uniform that he could before following Fred and Rachel into the bar.</p><p>It wasn’t even that late and yet, the bar was already relatively crowded. Following his two coworkers towards where their boss was sitting with the other four that had carpooled with him, Evan noticed the bartender. Tall, lanky and wearing all black, he had a Spillway shirt pulled on over top of his long sleeved shirt. Evan’s first thought was that the guy must have been warm, because Evan felt himself sweating underneath his own tee shirt already. Then, the bartender turned around and Evan wanted to phase into the floor.</p><p>How was it that he hadn’t seen Connor Murphy for five whole years, and then, twice in the same day, they managed to cross paths? If he told his mother about it, she would say it was fate. The universe giving him a sign. Evan wasn’t sure what the sign could possibly be, but when his eyes met Connor’s in the dim light of the bar, he could tell that the taller man was not exactly pleased to see him.</p><p>“Hey guys,” Guss, the Primary Warden said, waving them over before grabbing onto Evan’s shoulder and saying to Connor, “this is my second in command. Secondary Warden Hansen, meet Connor, the best damn bartender on the east coast.”</p><p>“I...I really don’t think I am,” Connor said, though, Evan realized that there was no way anyone except Evan would have heard him, because they weren’t listening to him anymore anyway. Attention turned towards Fred talking about how he felt his girlfriend’s unborn baby had been kicking earlier, Evan watched as Connor’s eyes darkened into a frown before turning to go deal with someone else at the bar.</p><p>Sitting at the bar and pretending to be very interested in the conversation, Evan barely registered Connor slide a soda across the counter to him. Looking up, Evan took a small sip of the soda to confirm that it was, in fact, a glass of Pepsi.</p><p>“Thanks,” Evan muttered.</p><p>“You weren’t drinking your beer,” Connor observed, pointing towards Evan’s opened but untouched bottle of beer.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan said, “I don’t drink.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Connor replied with an awkward chuckle, “Or, at least, not very much.”</p><p>“Never really liked it, I guess,” Evan added before taking another sip of his Pepsi, “You deal with these guys often?”</p><p>“Every Friday night,” Connor reported. Which, really, made sense. Guss had a thing about bringing people out for a beer every Friday night.</p><p>“Cause you any trouble?” Evan asked.</p><p>“Nah,” Connor said, “they’re pretty well behaved Secondary Warden Hansen.”</p><p>“You...you don’t have to call me that,” Evan said with a smile into his Pepsi. Suddenly, he felt like he was back in middle school, talking to someone he found attractive. Except for this time, he was a twenty-one-year-old adult that was unable to keep his composure.</p><p>Dressed up a little, in black skinny jeans, Evan couldn’t deny that Connor looked good. Hair tied back into a tight bun, highlighting high cheekbones and wide smile, long fingers accented with a handful of rings, he was definitely good looking. There was significantly more muscle definition on his limbs than he had back in high school and he didn’t look so sickly thin or pale. Evan stored that fact away with a strange sense of pride. He didn’t know why, he barely even knew Connor, then or now, but it seemed like something important. Though, after three years of hard work, Evan could happily report that he could likely overpower Connor. Some of the benefits of working at the park.</p><p>“How about Hansen?” Connor asked, looking down and spinning one of his rings around his left pointer finger.</p><p>“Or Evan.  Thats...uh...my first name,” Evan replied, realizing that they were still keeping up the charade of not knowing each other. Or, perhaps, Connor really didn’t remember him. Either way worked in his favour.</p><p>“So, Mr. Secondary Warden Evan Hansen, aside from reuniting lost dogs with lost humans, what does one do at Ellison?” Connor asked, reaching down somewhere behind the bar and pulling out a bag of bar snacks and refilling the dish that Fred and Guss had managed to empty.</p><p>“Sometimes guided walking tours, tree maintenance, path maintenance, making sure dumb people don’t do dumb things,” Evan said before taking a drink of Pepsi. Which turned out to be too much at once, the bubbles going up his nose and causing him to start coughing.</p><p>“Drink often Hansen?” Rachel asked, smacking Evan between the shoulder blades a couple of times as his face reddened from drawing so much attention to himself. When he turned back over his shoulder, Connor had disappeared out of sight. Resigning himself to at least another hour of human interaction, Evan tried to pretend to be interested in what his coworkers were saying.</p><p>Just as the conversation was dying down a little and Fred had offered to drive Evan home, he watched Connor slide a folded napkin discreetly across the bar surface towards him. Assuming it was truly meant for him, Evan picked it up and shoved it into his pocket, looking right into Connor’s eyes with a look that he hoped Connor registered to mean<em> I’ll read it later, okay?</em></p><p>He was met with a look said <em>sure</em>. Or, at least he hoped that was what it said. Maybe he was reading too far into it, but it was his best guess.</p>
<hr/><p>Folding his clothes into a neat pile, Evan felt something flutter out of his pocket and land on his foot. Reaching down, Evan remembered Connor’s napkin, which he had somehow forgotten about between leaving the bar, getting back to his childhood home and showering.</p><p>Unfolding it, he saw Connor’s name with a phone number underneath, followed with a small smiley face. It seemed so genuinely Connor that Evan couldn’t help but smile. Though, Evan couldn’t help but wonder what Connor meant by that. Did he just want them to talk and be friends or…? And there was the overthinking. Just as he was proud of himself for not having to use his Lexapro, he could feel his heartbeat picking up and his breathing speeding up.</p><p>Logically, he knew that Connor likely just wanted to talk and that he should calm down. Staring into the fish tank across the room from his bed, Evan tried to pace his thoughts with the bubbles breaking the surface of the water.</p><p>Once he felt calm again, anxiety attack aborted, Evan lifted his phone up from its charger beside his bed and keyed in Connor’s number.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Hey, its Evan, from the park and Spillways.</p>
</blockquote>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Inebriated Morons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brief tw for the use of the F word (the 6 letters long one)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor was sitting behind the bar on a stool he’d nabbed, watching Asa talking with some people down the far side of the bar, wondering why he’d mentally wished that the park rangers from earlier would go home. At least they were interesting, and he could talk with Evan. All these other people were just giving Connor a serious case of depression. Well, more serious than the one he already had.</p><p>From the back pocket of his jeans, Connor felt his phone buzz. Pulling it free, he saw a text from an unidentified number.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Unknown:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Hey, its Evan, from the park and Spillways.</p>
</blockquote><p>Connor smiled down at his phone. He knew that he wasn’t technically supposed to be on it while at work, but it wasn’t that he was ignoring anyone. There was no one for him to deal with. Asa was too busy chatting with anyone who could have possibly been keeping him entertained. So he tapped out a quick message back.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>hey evan</p>
  <p>nice talking with you again</p>
  <p>did you make it home alright</p>
  <p>(also if i disappear its because im still serving drinks to inebriated morons)</p>
</blockquote><p>Pocketing his phone and grabbing the washcloth from its bucket, Connor took to scrubbing down the counter that wasn’t particularly dirty. The longer that he stood around doing nothing, the more of the conversation down the bar he heard and that one had taken a particularly dark turn and that was the last thing Connor wanted to hear if he was expected to drive home after his shift.</p><p>He’d realized pretty early on in life that his family wouldn’t give a rats ass if he disappeared and they only kept trying to keep him alive because it would look bad for them if their eldest child and only son killed himself. Once he moved out after barely graduating high school, he’d found Rocky. A stay dog, whimpering and whining in the alley behind Spillways. It had taken four months' worth of paycheques to nurse Rocky back to health, but once he managed that, he realized that he was as reliant on Rocky as his new pooch was on him. Rocky would never understand if Connor left and never returned. And so, for three years, Connor had managed to keep himself alive. First for Rocky and then, for himself.</p><p>Down the bar a little, Connor felt his pocket buzz and he retrieved his phone before unlocking it with his password - his elementary school user number. He didn’t know why that number, in particular, had stuck in his head for so long, but he’d used it on so many things that it seemed second nature at this point.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Unknown: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah, I’m home</p>
  <p>just showered actually</p>
  <p>sorry, thats oversharing</p>
  <p>how are the inebriated morons</p>
</blockquote><p>Connor huffed out a laugh to himself, tossing the cloth into its bucket. Putting his phone into the pocket of his apron, he approached a recent patron who’d just joined said inebriated morons and poured him the requested drink. Topping up a couple of others, Connor returned to where he was standing before.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>theyre as dumb as usual</p>
  <p>and dont worry about that oversharing thing</p>
  <p>its okay</p>
  <p>i dont mind</p>
  <p>really</p>
</blockquote><p>Before pocketing his phone yet again, Connor added Evan’s contact to his phone book, changing the messages from an unknown sender to the blond boy’s name.</p><p>Sitting down on the stool he’d taken behind the bar, Connor wondered just how long he was going to be able to pretend that he really had no idea who Evan was. One of these days, the topic of high school was bound to come up. Three years out of high school wasn’t long, it wasn’t uncommon to bring something like that. Heaven knows the topic had been brought up before and had caused more than one person to question whether or not he was seriously off his rocker.</p><p>Someone like Connor didn’t just go to one of the most prestigious private schools. Though, someone like Connor did, he’d just distanced himself from the people that had been able to send him there. That's what he gets, he supposed, having rich parents.</p><p>He just didn’t know how to bring it up. His reputation in public high school was less than spectacular, Connor knew that. There were so many things he’d done, back when his various mental illnesses ran his life. As if they didn’t now, Connor thought with a small smirk.</p><p>“Hey bar boy,” someone called from down the bar, the voice not kind nor pleasant in any way shape or form. He was used to it at this point.</p><p>Besides, Asa was here tonight, so really, he was pretty sure that nothing would go horribly wrong. So, Connor turned to the owner of the voice and saw a man who needed no more alcohol. Grey hair dishevelled and a shadow of a beard appeared on his face, the man’s eyes streaked red while his suit was falling open. He looked horrible, in all honesty, and Connor decided on the spot that he was going to cut the man off. No more alcohol for him tonight from this establishment.</p><p>“Give me another drink of that hard stuff,” the drunk man said, his voice slurring and head barely managing to stay upright on his shoulders.</p><p>“No sir,” Connor replied, “you do not need any more alcohol.”</p><p>“You aint the one calling the shots here pretty boy,” the drunk man slurred, “I asked for another drink.”</p><p>Looking over at Asa, Connor gave him a look. He was handling this for now, but Connor could see this going downhill fast once he reiterated that they were cutting him off. At least Asa was behind the bar with him and, out of the corner of his eye, he could see their short-order cook Colton getting ready for action. He had back up. Everything was going to be okay.</p><p>“Nope, we’re cutting you off, you have had plenty,” Connor said, turning just over his shoulder to grab the man the slip of paper that had his tab on it.</p><p>Ever since he was young, Connor had something that he liked to call his spider-sense. He didn’t know for sure what it was, if it had a name or if it was actually a real thing, but so far in life, it had never failed him. So, as Connor turned to grab the tab paper, the tingling in the back of his head told him to duck. He did and less than a millisecond later, an empty bar glass flew over his head and smashed into the plexiglass divider between the bar and the kitchen.</p><p>Right where his head would have been if he didn’t listen to his spider-sense.</p><p>“What the fuck man?” Connor shouted, standing to his full height, not slouching in any way, letting his broad shoulders fill up as much space as they possibly could. Whirling around to face the previous owner of the thrown glass, Connor glared at him.</p><p>“Get out,” Connor said, not yelling, but in the tone of voice that the man would have no doubt in his mind that Connor was serious, “you have exactly fifteen seconds to remove yourself from this building before I call the cops.”</p><p>“Fine. Useless faggot,” the man said and Connor could feel his left eye twitching with the force it took to not absolutely lose his shit at this guy.</p><p>“Pass the phone,” Asa said, not giving the man the fifteen seconds that Connor was going to let him have.</p><p>Connor shrugged and passed his boss the bar phone. From the beeping of the keys, he knew that his boss had just called the cops. The man seemed to realize that too and started getting ready to hightail it out of there.</p><p>“Yeah no,” Lee said, approaching the man from the side just as Colton walked out from the kitchen, “you get to talk to the cops now dude.”</p>
<hr/><p>Collapsing onto his bed, Connor buried his face into Rocky’s coat. Holding his dog as tight as he could, he felt Rocky’s tongue against the side of his neck and remembered that the world wasn’t as terrible as some nights at the bar made it seem.</p><p>Once Connor could breathe again, the tightness in his chest releasing a little, he rolled over and grabbed his phone. Knowing that Evan was probably sleeping, or hopefully was sleeping since it was almost three in the morning, Connor noticed over a dozen new texts from the blond park ranger, all sent hours ago.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>okay, if you’re sure.</p>
  <p>But if I’m annoying you please just tell me to be quiet.</p>
  <p>How much longer do you have to be at work tonight?</p>
  <p>Hopefully not too late if you have school tomorrow morning</p>
  <p>Do you even go to school still?</p>
  <p>I don’t I just work at the park</p>
  <p>Actually, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want</p>
  <p>You don’t even really know me</p>
  <p>Thats a creepy question</p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
  <p>I guess I don’t even know how old you are</p>
  <p>I’m 21</p>
  <p>Sorry, thats a weird question too</p>
  <p>I guess you’re busy at work</p>
  <p>I’m gonna stop texting you now</p>
  <p>Have a good rest of your shift!</p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so sorry about the copious amounts of texting conversation in this, but I had to get them to talk a little more.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Fucked Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I tried to format the texting portions like a real text conversation (where the person who is using their phone sees the messages on the right side of the screen and the incoming messages on the left).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evan woke to a handful of texts from Jared and a series from Connor. Even though he knew he should have checked the ones from Jared first, curiosity got the best of him and he opened Connor’s texts first.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>i got off work at 2</p>
  <p>i still go to school</p>
  <p>the university actually - got two more years</p>
  <p>im 21 as well</p>
  <p>have a good day tomorrow</p>
  <p>or I guess today</p>
  <p>my turn to go to bed</p>
  <p>cya later</p>
</blockquote><p>Pulling himself out of bed, Evan didn’t exactly worry about typing out a reply quite yet - he could do that on the bus ride to work - and instead walked over to his pile of clothes from the day before. Shrugging on his shirt and slowly doing up the buttons in order to prevent having them offset or mismatched, Evan couldn’t erase the smile off his face. He didn’t think it was a crush, it was just the first time in a while that he had someone to talk with that he didn’t know from the park.</p><p>Evan had to admit that his social skills hadn’t improved much since high school and that the only way he’d managed to make friends was due to mutual acquaintances of his colleagues. Sure he liked his coworkers and they had some interesting friends, but for once, he was potentially making a friend all on his own with no outside help. Though, he wasn’t sure if he’d call Connor a friend quite yet, considering their first interaction ended with the taller boy running out with his dog after they both managed to say some admittedly dumb things.</p><p>Pouring himself a bag of cheerios before making peanut butter and honey sandwich in the kitchen of his mother's house - which yes, he still lived at - he bet that if she was around and not at work even earlier in the morning than he was, she would scold him for his eating habits. Or praise him for eating due to his own choosing. He hadn’t been the best at that in the past. Which was okay. Because the past was the past.</p><p>Maybe Evan could look past their high school years and even their interaction at the park in favour of having a good laugh at the bar and texting.</p><p>After he’d gotten home last night and had showered, Evan had tried to sleep but found that when he couldn’t, he’d gone in search of his ninth and tenth-grade yearbooks. They were wedged into his bookshelf, hidden behind other books so he never had to see them again. Bringing them back to his bed and gently sitting on it so he didn’t make it creak, Evan flipped it open to the page he knew their years’ pictures started on.</p><p>He’d definitely looked at the yearbooks enough before deciding that it wasn’t something he needed to keep dwelling on. He always hated his yearbook photos. Especially the ninth grade one. Chubby cheeks, wildly curly blond hair and a mouthful of braces. Yeah. Attractive. It was a wonder of wonders that he never ended up dating anyone in high school.</p><p>Snorting quietly to himself, Evan flipped the page to keep looking for the place where the last names begun with “M.” One of the benefits of having a graduating class of five thousand.</p><p>Then he saw him. A small boy with a crooked smile and hair that swooped over his forehead in loose brown waves. He looked remarkably similar to his figure now, unlike Evan, who’d changed appearance significantly. Connor’s cheekbones were slightly more defined and his smile was wider now, likely having gotten braces at some point between the ninth grade and now.</p><p>Regardless, there was no doubt that Connor was the same guy and honestly, Evan thought he was actually really sweet back in high school. Maybe if he realized it sooner, they could have been friends sooner. Maybe if he hadn't been so convinced that Connor was going to murder him, it would have happened.</p><p>Evan hadn’t slept that well after he’d gone through his yearbooks, but as he stepped out the front door and locking it behind him, he didn’t actually feel that tired. Which was a miracle of miracles considering the fact that that was what normally happened when he lost copious amounts of sleep in one night. He never drank coffee either, because that was just playing with fire since it was never really consistent how it would mess with his meds from day to day. So, just plain old sleep was his best option.</p><p>Once he sat down on the bus, Evan took the time to open his phone and text Connor back.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>That's really late to go to bed.</p>
  <p>Or early, I guess, depending on when you decide to call it the morning.</p>
  <p>Do you have school today?</p>
  <p>You probably do, considering its a weekday.</p>
  <p>Rocky was wearing a service vest yesterday.</p>
  <p>Are you training him for one of those programs?</p>
</blockquote><p>Smiling to himself, Evan scrolled up through their texts and reading them again before remembering that he still had yet to read and reply to Jared.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Jared Kleinman:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yo acorn you still up?</p>
  <p>Why do I always leave these assignments until the last moment?</p>
  <p>They’re not getting done tonight, that's for sure.</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>well, you’ve been doing that exact thing since high school</p>
  <p>I can’t say I’m surprised honestly</p>
  <p>Did you actually end up getting it done?</p>
</blockquote><p>Turning his phone off and sticking it in the pocket of his zip-off park pants, Evan returned to looking out the window in anticipation of getting off at his stop.</p>
<hr/><p>Wandering through the park, trying desperately to ignore the slightly sticky feel of his sandwich on his fingers from lunch Evan was just enjoying some tree observing time when he still had time left on his lunch break. The leaves on the trees were changing colours and Evan knew it was just a matter of time before they all fell to the ground and made a mess that they’d just have to clean up so it didn’t decay on the ground over the winter.</p><p>Feeling his pocket buzz, Evan pulled out his phone only to see a notification from Connor.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Usually I just think that its late when I get home from work</p>
</blockquote><p>Smiling down at his phone, Evan watched as the three little bubbles appeared again at the bottom of the screen. Instead of typing anything back, Evan waited and watched as he got another text from Connor. He stopped walking so he didn’t crash into anyone and stepped off the path.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>i just finished off school for the day </p>
  <p>i only have morning classes</p>
  <p>but im training rocky</p>
  <p>hes an emotional support animal</p>
  <p>...</p>
  <p>rocky helps me out with anxiety</p>
  <p>and other things</p>
</blockquote><p>Evan snorted at his phone. Why hadn’t he realized that? After yesterday when they’d reunited Connor with Rocky, Evan had noticed the way he’d embraced the dog. Like his life depended on it. Yet, for whatever reason, Evan had left his mind to jump to the conclusion that Connor was merely the trainer of the animal and that it wasn’t actually going to end up being for him. Which, if Evan was being honest, made him feel even worse about the way he’d handled yesterday when he’d tried to tell the 9-1-1 joke only to have it fall hilariously flat.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Sorry, I didn’t realize that.</p>
  <p>You did a good job training him though</p>
  <p>Behaved really well when we found him</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>im glad</p>
  <p>its okay im glad you asked</p>
  <p>people usually dont</p>
  <p>are you at the park today</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yup</p>
  <p>same shift as yesterday and all other days of the week except for sunday</p>
  <p>guess thats what I get for not going to college</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>never wanted to go to college</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>never had the money</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sorry</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>you don’t have to say sorry.</p>
  <p>Its not your fault</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>work in progress</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>what is?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>saying sorry</p>
  <p>kinda just slips out you know</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>oh yeah I know</p>
  <p>So...what does the not-sorry Connor Murphy do for fun?</p>
</blockquote><p>Evan didn’t realize what he’d said wrong as he watched the three little dots disappear and reappear multiple times. Going over their last exchange, Evan saw his mistake. He’d exposed his lie. Shown his hand. He remembered Connor’s last name. He didn’t know what he was going to say now.</p><p>There really wasn’t any explanation and at this point, he had to wait to see what Connor was going to say because, yet again, he’d managed to talk himself into a corner. Exactly what he did anytime he started getting close to people. He always managed to screw something up.</p><p>So, Evan did the only thing he could think of and shot a text off to Jared.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Jared, I fucked up.</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Jared Kleinman:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I assume you meant to say I fucked up <em>again</em></p>
  <p>Whatever</p>
  <p>What did you do this time?</p>
</blockquote>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Of Course He Remembers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evan remembered. Of course he did.</p><p>For just a moment, Connor had thought that maybe they could start fresh. So, Connor did the only thing he knew how to do, and that was to make an obnoxious joke to try to lighten the mood. Though, once he typed it out, it just didn’t seem to capture the essence of his conversation with Evan at all. Evan seemed to be able to get worked up over very small things, which Connor not only remembered from high school, but had seen in the conversations over the past couple of days.</p><p>He remembered that there was a pep rally he’d sat behind Evan at. By the time they were filed out of the track when everything was done, the boy in the blue shirt and jeans had chewed all his fingernails down to bloody stumps. Connor remembered thinking at the time that the kid was a loser. Feeling grateful that maybe, just maybe there was a bigger loser at the school than him. Then he remembered thinking, just at the back of his mind that Evan was kind cute - in a lost puppy kind of way. The same innocent look painted across his features that he’d seen on Rocky when he’d found him.</p><p>Evan hadn’t lost that look. The wonderstruck look on his face that he got when he seemed to be lost to happy thoughts inside his head. Connor had so little experience with a happy place inside his head that now, he envied Evan a little. Plus, he still looked good, which was a cool benefit, but Connor told himself they could just be friends. They could be friends and that would be fine. Plus, Evan wasn’t into guys. There was no way.</p><p>Connor typed up a couple of replies but deleted them all when Connor realized he just sounded immature. He was anything but immature nowadays. That was left in the past. He was an adult who had to do adult things to get paid and to learn so he didn’t have to work as a bartender for the rest of his life. He had no time for immaturity anymore. The only remaining scrap of immaturity he allowed himself to keep was when he broke down in front of Rocky. But that was allowed. It was encouraged actually.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>I knew you remembered me</p>
</blockquote><p>Throwing his phone at his pillow when Evan didn’t reply - not even had any dots show up - Rocky looked up at him and whined. Connor smirked at his dog and ran his hands through the brown hair, making a mental reminder to get Rocky a haircut. It’d been growing for a while and would have to be making his poor dog quite warm. With blurred and unfocused eyes, Rocky gave Connor a look that he didn’t quite know how to describe. Like Rocky could see parts of Connor that he couldn’t bear to look at. Not yet.</p><p>“I know, I’m sorry boy,” Connor muttered as Rocky licked up the side of his hand, “sorry for waking you.”</p><p>Connor didn’t understand how Rocky could do it. Maybe it was his heart rate or some kind of fancy scientific thing that Rocky could sense, but he was amazingly in-tune with how Connor was feeling. Whenever his thoughts started getting away from him, there was Rocky, head pressing into Connor’s hand, reminding him that he was there and that they were relying on each other. It blew his mind. Rocky was never specially trained, other than a brief program to get certified as a support animal and yet he just seemed to know what to do.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>kinda hard to forget.</p>
  <p>I was thinking of ways to break it to you that I knew you</p>
  <p>Thought about it more than needed probably</p>
  <p>I do that a lot</p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
  <p>I get if you don’t want to keep talking to me</p>
  <p>Makes sense</p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>evan stop</p>
  <p>i still want to talk to you </p>
  <p>okay so stop freaking out</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>can i ask you a question then?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sure</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>where did you go after grade 10?</p>
  <p>I thought you moved away</p>
  <p>Which was a dumb thought because Zoe was still around</p>
  <p>I’m gonna stop talking now</p>
  <p>I don’t know when to stop</p>
  <p>And talk myself into corners</p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
</blockquote><p>Connor swallowed hard even though there was no one around to have a clear throat to talk with. The moment of truth. Where he went after grade 10. Why he left without a trace. Why Zoe refused to talk to anyone about where he had gone or what had happened to him. Or, more importantly, what hadn’t happened to him. The lawyer’s son who was suicidal. What a story. He bet more people would have believed the school shooter narrative that Jared told. It definitely would have fit better, all things considered. Not that it was accurate, but eyes and brains could observe and tell whatever stories they wanted.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>evan</p>
  <p>its okay</p>
  <p>really</p>
  <p>i went to a boarding school for grade 11 and 12</p>
  <p>shitty school really</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>oh</p>
  <p>That makes more sense than moving to Mexico</p>
  <p>Which was where Jared convinced me you’d moved to</p>
  <p>Do you remember Jared?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>mexico huh</p>
  <p>never been there actually</p>
  <p>jared kleinman</p>
  <p>that goof you used to hang out with</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>he’s the one</p>
  <p>Convinced me of a lot of things actually.</p>
  <p>Lot of things that weren’t true</p>
  <p>Turns out I have an overactive imagination</p>
  <p>And I’m good at letting thoughts spiral out of control</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>you and me both dude</p>
  <p>can i ask you a question now</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>shoot</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>whend you decide to grow a beard</p>
  <p>not saying it looks bad</p>
  <p>the opposite actually</p>
  <p>just impressed you chose to do it</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>long story short, I could grow facial hair at a young age</p>
  <p>And I knew it would piss my dad off</p>
  <p>If he ever came back</p>
  <p>So I did it out of spite</p>
  <p>Then decided I liked it</p>
  <p>So...probably about a year and a half ago?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>spite is the best motivator</p>
</blockquote><p>Connor decided not to press the issue of Evan bringing up his father or Jared. Jared just irked him. From the beginning of kindergarten until the end of the tenth grade, he seemed to do nothing but love to pick on Connor or mess with Evan. He vividly remembered Jared pulling Evan’s pants down during a fire drill in the eighth grade. Though, he probably got suspended for that. Considering it was during a fire drill and he’d accidentally caught Evan’s underwear in the mix. He didn’t see Evan for a while after that incident. Though, most of the following grades were a blur and Connor didn’t even really know if the pants incident was a real memory or not. So he said nothing and waited to see if Evan was going to continue their conversation.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>do you work tonight?</p>
  <p>Actually wait</p>
  <p>I think I asked that already</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah you did</p>
  <p>but yeah i work tonight</p>
  <p>you coming to the bar again</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>not if I can help it</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>what</p>
  <p>you don’t like spillways</p>
  <p>im just joking im not pissed</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>loud, crowded, rude and full of alcohol</p>
  <p>No thanks</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah people can be assholes at bars</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>speaking from experience?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>you know what some drunk dude called me last night before we called the cops on his ass</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>something rude I’m assuming</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>the six letter fword</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I’m so sorry Connor.</p>
  <p>You don’t deserve to deal with people like that</p>
  <p>Not at all</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>all part of the job i guess</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>are you?</p>
  <p>Oh shit thats a bad question</p>
  <p>Please don’t answer that</p>
  <p>Not if you don’t want to</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>the answer would be yes</p>
  <p>though,the twenty first century term is homosexual</p>
  <p>gay if you prefer</p>
  <p>;p</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>you didn’t have to tell me that</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>i don’t mind</p>
  <p>not like its a secret</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>thats okay</p>
  <p>I’m not freaking</p>
  <p>Just so you know</p>
  <p>Just not expecting you to just say it</p>
  <p>Not that its a bad thing</p>
  <p>People just aren’t usually so open</p>
  <p>You know?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>i guess im not like most people huh</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>nope</p>
  <p>Neither of us are</p>
  <p>But before I forget and you have to go to work</p>
  <p>What’s your opinion on pancakes?</p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so I swear that this is the second-last mostly texting chapter.  I swear!  Haha, thanks for reading everyone.  I hope you are liking it so far.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Do You Like Pancakes?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evan smacked himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand not holding onto his phone. Why was that how he’d chosen to broach the topic of his masterful plan to Connor?</p><p>Every year, Ellison State Park held a fall pancake breakfast. The wardens and park staff did all the cooking and it was like a celebration of all the fun they’d had during the summer months before the park was partially closed for the winter and part-time staff moved onto different jobs. Out of all the events the park held, Evan could actually stand the breakfast. And, contrary to popular belief, he was actually not a terrible cook, and would often help make pancakes.</p><p>He just wanted an excuse to hang out with Connor, in all honesty, because talking with him at the bar had been nice, and texting with him was really fun. If they ended up better friends after this, Evan would be happy. If they ended up as more, well, that was okay too. The only snare in his whole plan was the fact that he still had neither confirmed nor denied nor mentioned anything about his sexuality. It wasn’t that it was a secret. Not at all. It wasn’t something Evan hid either. He wore a rainbow lanyard during pride month and if someone was to ask him, he would tell the truth. But he wasn’t about to go around shouting it from the rooftops because, well, that just wasn’t who Evan was.</p><p>Besides, Evan still had the suffocating and lingering fear of coming out. Sure, people were better about that kind of thing nowadays, but they weren’t perfect. There was still a chance that something could go horribly wrong. Anxiety was a bitch like that. Sure, with enough work, Evan could talk on the phone, order pizza, and lead trail hikes but telling someone that he liked guys? Well, that was just one step too far for the beast called anxiety that he had to share his brain with.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>pancakes?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah.</p>
  <p>Do you like them?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sure</p>
  <p>why?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Okay, so I guess I probably should have provided a lead up to that statement…</p>
  <p>Ellison does a fall breakfast every year and I was wondering if you’d like to come to it?</p>
  <p>Like, because it’ll be fun and theres games</p>
  <p>and Rocky could totally come too because its outside so you don’t have to worry about that</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>evan</p>
  <p>youre freaking out again</p>
  <p>id love to go</p>
  <p>just tell me when it is and ill be there</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Its on sunday</p>
  <p>This sunday</p>
  <p>Tomorrow</p>
  <p>I didn’t think about this until now…</p>
  <p>It starts at 9</p>
  <p>I’ll be cooking pancakes until 10 though</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sounds great</p>
  <p>see you tomorrow at 945 then</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>okay!</p>
  <p>See you!</p>
  <p>(I have to go do real park ranger things now)</p>
</blockquote><p>Smiling down at his phone, Evan felt a massive sense of accomplishment. He’d asked a friend to go to an event with him. He’d asked. He’d started it. That was a rare occurrence.</p><p>But...were they even friends? Because they’d re-met just yesterday after not seeing each other for five years and just started talking. Was that what friends did? Was that a way to make friends? Maybe Connor didn’t feel the same way. Maybe he thought Evan was crazy and was just being his friend out of pity.</p><p><em>Stop.  Stop it Evan</em>, he told himself, <em>don’t project thoughts onto other people because you have no proof that that is what they are thinking</em>. Besides, Connor said yes. He could have made a dozen of other excuses on why he couldn’t spend his only day off in a week hanging out with you at a park. Yet he didn’t. He said yes. That should count for something.</p>
<hr/><p>Waiting for the microwave to beep, signalling that his spaghetti had been spun around for exactly a minute, he heard the front door unlock. His mom was home. For the first time in two days, their paths crossed. It wasn’t new. His mother had been...absent...for a large swath of his teenage years, and while he used to resent her for it, he now understood why she did what she did to make ends meet. Now that Evan had a job and paid her some rent money, her hours were less. Not perfect, but less.</p><p>The one thing Evan still felt ridiculously guilty about though, was his mother never finishing getting her paralegal degree. She’d dropped out the summer before Evan started the twelfth grade to take care of him. It was that or be sent to an in-patient treatment facility. At the time, Evan hadn’t wanted her to sacrifice her education for him, but she’d said that she was just doing the right thing. Taking shifts at the hospital while he was at school, being with him while he was at home. He’d hated it at first, but really, he appreciated that he hadn’t had to live alone in someplace he’d never been before.</p><p>“Want some spaghetti mom?” Evan asked, not turning around from where he was shredding some cheese to put on his dinner.</p><p>“Thanks honey,” she replied, “I’m going to take a shower, then we can eat together for once.”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Evan said, turning towards the fridge and going in search of the containers of leftovers to make a plate for her.</p><p>A couple of minutes later, tired footsteps alerted him to her presence once again. With the two plates in hand, Evan turned to face his mother and almost dropped them on the floor when he saw her face. Around her eye and down her cheek was coloured with a deep purple bruise. Her eyes were red like she’d been crying and her nose was running a little.</p><p>“Oh my god mom what happened?” Evan exclaimed, putting the plates down on the table with little to no finesse and rushing around to look at her.</p><p>“Evan, I’m okay, I promise,” she assured him, holding onto his hands and gently rubbing circles into the palms with her thumbs, “Nancy looked over me, I’m fine. Just a...belligerent patient is all.”</p><p>“That's a huge bruise mom!” Evan exclaimed. It either had to be two merging into one or some guy with one massive fist.</p><p>“I’m fine. A little tender, but fine,” she said again and while Evan didn’t believe that for one second, he knew what being brushed off due to an unwillingness to share was like. So he let it go. For the time being. One benefit of being able to use the phone now? He’d just phone Nancy later. He needed to know what happened. He had to take care of his mom, no matter how much she may still like to pretend she was invincible.</p><p>“How was the park today?” she asked after they sat in silence for a little.</p><p>“Just getting ready for the breakfast tomorrow,” Evan explained, deliberately not mentioning the fact that he’d spent way more time than usual talking with Connor and with his phone on vibrate in his back pocket - something he never did usually. He just...really liked talking with Connor.</p><p>“That sounds lovely honey! I wish I could be there this year,” she said and Evan carefully schooled his features. He refused to look disappointed when his mother was just doing what she had to do.</p><p>“Yeah, me too,” he said, “maybe next year?”</p><p>“Maybe next year,” she confirmed and they both continued to eat in silence.</p><p>After dinner, his mother went straight to bed, and, after taking a shower mostly to wash the tomato sauce out of his beard, Evan went searching for Nancy’s phone number. She’d worked with his mother for years. The number had to be somewhere. In his pyjama bottoms and a tank top, Evan scanned down the hand-written phone list on the side of the fridge. Nancy Kepler. Score. Keying the number into their home phone, Evan let it ring a couple times before Nancy picked up.</p><p>“Heidi?” the voice of Nancy asked instead of letting Evan speak first, “how are you feeling?”</p><p>“Hi Nancy, its actually Evan,” he said, the cold grip of anxiety threatening to grab onto his windpipe and squeeze until he couldn’t force any words out.</p><p>“Oh hi Evan,” she said, voice soft and calm, “how is your mother feeling?”</p><p>“Um...fine, I guess? She went to bed right after supper. I was actually calling to ask about what had happened...because she didn’t tell me and I was a little...a little worried,” Evan said, hoping that his verbal diarrhea was slightly understood.</p><p>“Oh. I see,” Nancy replied before launching into a retelling of their day at the hospital.</p><p>Apparently, it had started off normal until a paramedic team had brought an extremely angry man in, cuffed to the stretcher. Somehow, in the process of transferring him to a hospital bed in the emergency room, he’d managed to get free and punch his mother in a very sloppy, very uncoordinated yet forceful movement.</p><p>“Is she going to be okay?” Evan asked, already thinking of ways he could cancel going to the breakfast in case his mother needed him tomorrow morning.</p><p>“Food, rest, a couple of days off and she’ll be back to normal,” Nancy replied. Maybe she’d be up to coming to the breakfast after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1) As you may have noticed, I changed the falling out of a tree story a little.  They found out that Evan had tried to commit suicide and would have sent him to in-patient therapy but made some kind of exception if his mother looked after him.  </p><p>2) I promise I do have a plan with nurse Heidi getting punched, this is not just a random tidbit : )</p><p>3) Have you seen Ben Platt's quarantine beard?  That's what I'm basing this Evan's beard on - though perhaps a little bit more well maintained.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Is This A Date?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Climbing out of his beat-up Toyota in the gravel parking lot of Ellison, Connor seriously wondered if he’d made the right decision agreeing to do this. As much as he liked the idea of hanging out with Evan, the number of people swarming everywhere was making his heartbeat pick up.</p><p>He didn’t know how he would be expected to do this. Not act out in any way shape or form while still conversing with Evan and being interesting. He knew that it was bad to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. But he wasn’t pretending to be anything he wasn’t, he was just carefully hiding his crazy. Maybe one day he wouldn’t have to try so hard to hide it one day, but he couldn’t at this moment.</p><p>Maybe, if things went well and he had the opportunity to go with Evan on a second outing, it wouldn’t be so hard. But he had to get through the first outing first.</p><p>Pulling himself out of his head, Connor opened the back door of his car and let Rocky jump down from the mat that he’d installed when Rocky started growing and seemed to just not want to stop. With a snuffle, Rocky nuzzled into Connor’s hand and looked up at him. He looked down at his medium-brown haired dog with a smile and reached out to grab his service vest.</p><p>“C’mon bud,” Connor said, reaching down to start clipping the red vest onto Rocky’s back so that curious children wouldn’t play with him.</p><p>It wasn’t that Connor didn’t want Rocky to have fun or be a normal dog, but he just really needed him on his best behaviour for this outing to work. Then they could go on a nice, fun, normal walk after this whole mess was over. Which was a bad mindset to go into the breakfast with, but he’d been on edge and a complete disaster all night last night after Evan had asked if he wanted to go with him. Perhaps if it had been specified exactly what this outing was supposed to mean to the two of them, he could relax. Because, while Connor had made it known that he was gay, Evan had never said anything either way. Not that Connor expected him to, because he didn’t, but he would really have just liked to know if this was an outing as friends or a date.</p><p>“Hey man,” someone said from behind Connor, causing him to stand up from where he had been petting Rocky’s coat and zoning out slightly as he desperately tried to ground himself.</p><p>Looking back at the person, he recognized him as Evan’s boss. Guss, if Connor remembered correctly. Dressed in his beige park uniform, hat hanging at his back with the string tucked under the collar, Connor wondered how he’d managed to spot him, crouched between two cars.</p><p>“Hey,” Connor replied, grabbing Rocky’s leash from the ground and starting to head out of his hiding spot. It was time to face the day. Pulling on a brave face, Connor squared his shoulders and rolled his neck. He could do this.</p><p>“Glad to see you,” Guss said, clapping Connor on the back hard enough that he coughed a little, simply not expecting it. He heard Rocky whine from his spot against Connor’s thigh but didn’t make any other alert.</p><p>“Sweet dog,” Guss added, motioning towards Rocky with a smile as they started walking towards where Connor could hear people's voices.</p><p>“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Connor agreed.</p><p>At least Guss seemed to be done talking - a quality that Connor liked about the guy. He didn’t try to keep conversations going when he had nothing left to say, so they just kept walking.</p><p>“See you later man,” Guss said once they walked past the row of state park vehicles.</p><p>Leaving him alone near the gate between the parking lot and the grassy area, Connor looked towards the rows of people and white tents, he wondered which one Evan was making pancakes at. Maybe then, he could get in that line in time and talk with Evan. Besides, there were only about ten minutes before Evan was done, so he had to make up his mind by then.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>hey, you here yet?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah</p>
  <p>what station are you at</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>just give me two minutes</p>
  <p>I’ll bring you a plate</p>
  <p>I’m almost done.</p>
  <p>You see that really tall tree near the red bench?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah</p>
  <p>I see it</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I’ll meet you over there, okay?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sounds good</p>
</blockquote><p>Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Connor started to head towards the only red bench that he could see. Looking down towards Rocky, he muttered, “you know what boy, I’m pretty sure you’re going to like Evan.”</p><p>As they kept walking, Rocky looked up at Connor and he could have sworn that he saw Rocky smiling.</p><p>“Connor!” he heard Evan’s voice call from behind him. Turning around, he saw Evan in his park ranger uniform walking towards them with two paper plates, one in either hand. Waving back, Connor felt a genuine smile crossing his face for the first time that day. Even though he had no idea if this was a date or just a get together between two new friends, Connor couldn’t deny that Evan looked good in his park uniform.</p><p>“Hey, here’s some pancakes,” Evan said, handing over one of the plates before sitting down on the bench next to Connor.</p><p>“Thanks,” Connor said, taking the plate and setting it on his lap.</p><p>“I figured you’d be bringing Rocky with you,” Evan said before lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorial, even though there was no one else around, “so I gave you an extra sausage.”</p><p>Connor laughed before noticing that there were in fact two sausage patties on his plate when Evan’s only had one. Slicing off a piece, he gave it to Rocky, who had been obediently sitting at his feet, barely taking any notice of Evan's arrival. Connor remembered reading somewhere that animals and children were the single best judges of character and Rocky seemed to like him.</p>
<hr/><p>They spoke very little as they ate, mostly making offhand comments about their mornings or people that were walking by, but once they’d finished breakfast, Evan suggested they just went for a walk instead of going and doing things in throngs of people.</p><p>“There’s a reason I work somewhere where I don’t have to talk to people,” Evan said with a snort as they turned down a path and headed between some more trees.</p><p>“Nature walks?” Connor asked, remembering how once upon a time he’d gone on one with his parents. Maybe that wasn’t something Ellison did anymore. It was quite possible that they’d changed it over the years that he hadn’t visited the park. After they moved to their new house when Connor was nine, Ellison was just that too far away and they never visited it again. Then Connor moved out, Ellison was suddenly close enough once again for daily walks with Rocky. It was a miracle that he’d never crossed paths with Evan before Friday.</p><p>“Well, I mean, I lead some on occasion,” Evan replied, “but usually only in the spring.”</p><p>“Something special happens in the spring?” Connor asked as Rocky gently started pulling towards the side of the path.</p><p>“One second,” Connor added, as he stopped walking so Rocky could use the washroom.</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Evan said, stopping, “but, in the spring, the trees are all blooming and people like to come to see that I guess. I dunno, I said that I had ‘forest and tree expertise’ on my resume so Guss always assigns me to those ones. I get a free pass on the others.”</p><p>With a laugh, Connor asked, “Do you actually like trees? Or have forest expertise or something?”</p><p>“I mean, I’ve never gone to school for it or anything,” Evan replied, though his voice sounded like he felt like Connor was teasing him. Which was really not something Connor wanted. Not at all. It was a legitimate question and if it was something Evan was interested in, then Connor was curious.</p><p>“That's not what I meant, sorry,” Connor quickly amended, “I just meant...like…is that something you really like? Trees I mean.”</p><p>“Trees are pretty awesome,” Evan said, his smile returning, “you know, there are about ninety types of oak trees that are native to this area of the states, but this park only has about twenty-seven in this park.”</p><p>“That’s really cool dude,” Connor said with another brief laugh.</p><p>With a smile, he watched as Evan’s face morphed into a bright smile of his own as he looked up towards the tree canopy above their heads. The light that was shining between the leaves sprinkled Evan’s face with dots of sun and made him look so young.</p><p>Connor briefly wondered how much of a babyface he still had underneath his beard. He always remembered that Evan looked really young, back in school. Like he could have quite easily have been a couple of grades lower than he actually was. Combined with the fact that he obviously didn’t start gaining any height before Connor had left for Hanover, Evan had always been small. And, Connor supposed that Evan was still a little smaller than average. Which was a very lame comparison, because Connor couldn’t remember a time where he was average height and wasn’t the tallest in his class. So his sense of relative height was always skewed.</p><p>“Can I ask a question?” Evan blurted out suddenly and Connor tightened his grip on Rocky’s leash a little. He hated it when people asked that. Because then he was the one being forced to make the decision.</p><p>Unclenching his jaw when Rocky bumped into his palm, Connor answered, “Sure, of course.”</p><p>“Is this a date?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Do You Like Museums?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When his mother had kissed him on the forehead that morning and had told him to, “have fun at the pancake breakfast darling,” the last place he’d imagined himself standing was next to Connor Murphy on Lake Trail South while having just asked quite possibly <em>the dumbest question known to man</em>. He wanted to phase into the ground or jump into the lake, swim across to the other side and just stay there for the rest of the day. Or at least until Connor left.</p><p>That was not the right question to be asking. Out of all the things he could have said to Connor, “Is this a date,” was simply not the one that he should have asked. Not to mention that now Connor looked extremely awkward as he rubbed his neck and wrapped Rocky’s leash around his hand even tighter.</p><p>“Sorry, that was really awkward,” Evan blurted out, “but I just really wanted to know because it would be okay either way. And like, I don’t want to read too far into this but I was having a really good time, but we could also be friends too because I don’t really have many of those. But it was a dumb question anyway because you wouldn’t have even known that I’m bisexual when you said yes to coming to this thing and I was the one who asked you so I should have specified but now I’ve just gone and messed this all up sorry. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Turning to look at Connor, Evan knew his cheeks were bright red and not just from talking a mile a minute without taking a complete breath at any point. No. He’d just uncontrollably word-vomited all over Connor and now had the taller guy was staring at him with a completely unreadable look on his face. It was almost like Connor had no idea what to say next and so he was instead just staring back at Evan.</p><p>Just as Evan opened his mouth to keep saying something and try to backtrack on the steaming pile of word-vomit between them, Connor said, “you talk fast.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan acknowledged, “sorry.”</p><p>“But...um...thats a lot to unpack there,” Connor continued, gently tugging on Rocky’s leash to make them keep walking. Evan followed then promptly wondered what that said about him as a human being.</p><p>“I guess so,” Evan muttered, scratching his chin and tugging at his well-maintained beard a little. Just a couple soft prickles of pain to ground himself. Nothing as harmful and permanent compared to what he used to do.</p><p>“If we want to start at the beginning of that...paragraph...I’ve been having a really good time today too,” Connor said, looking towards Evan, who’d managed to catch up and was now walking directly at his side again with only Rocky between them.</p><p>“That’s good. I was hoping that this was something you’d like. Even though...I guess...we really don’t know each other all that well,” Evan replied before looking at his feet and deciding to keep his loose lips shut. The last thing he needed was to dig himself into a bigger hole than he’d ended up in.</p><p>“We can work on that?” Connor said, though Evan wasn’t entirely sure if it was supposed to be phrased as a question or not, “and, I think I’d like to be your friend too.”</p><p>Evan’s heart sagged a little. He hadn’t gone into this expecting to get a date, but now that Connor had very specifically said that he wanted to be Evan’s friend, he realized that that was exactly where they were standing. Not dating. Just friends. Evan could work with friends. Friends were okay. He could convince himself that that was exactly what he wanted too. Because if Evan was good at anything, it was lying to himself that things were okay exactly the way they were. He’d done it for years. What would a little longer mean in the grand scheme of things?</p><p>“I never expected you to specify whether or not this was a date,” Connor continued, rubbing at the back of his neck, underneath the hair that had escaped the low ponytail, “but...I had been wondering the same thing all day yesterday.”</p><p>“You were?” Evan felt himself squeak out, his voice jumping an octave as his brain struggled to process what Connor had said.</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor replied, looking at him with a crooked grin, “but I didn’t want to assume anything, because until a couple of minutes ago, I didn’t know what your orientation was.”</p><p>“I mean, I just assumed it would have been bad timing to tell you yesterday, after what you said happened to you at the bar and stuff. It seemed like a really inopportune moment,” Evan rambled but managed to cut himself off before he kept going on for too long.</p><p>“Would have been fine, but I get where you’re coming from,” Connor said.</p><p>“And then I didn’t just want to assume that because we both like dudes that you’d automatically like me, because, I mean, just look at me. Tons of other guys you could have chosen. And, since I was inviting you to this breakfast, I should have said either way but I decided not to,” Evan said, very aware of the redness in his cheeks under his beard and suntan from the summer once again. He probably looked like a fried tomato by now.</p><p>Then, he felt something very warm and fuzzy bump into the underside of his palm. Looking down, he saw that it was the top of Rocky’s head. Which, had now also caused Connor to be watching him with concern. Evan had watched a documentary on service dogs once. That most of them had some way of “alerting” their masters if something was happening. And it sure looked like Rocky was alerting now.</p><p>“Evan, calm down,” Connor said.</p><p>“I am calm,” Evan replied, to which Connor just gave him a raised eyebrow in return.</p><p>“Okay, maybe not as calm as I could be, but I don’t need to take any Ativan or anything,” Evan amended, “I swear, I’m really fine.”</p><p>“If you insist.  And, for the record, I think you're a lot better looking than you give yourself credit for” Connor said, reaching into one of his pockets and retrieving a small plastic bag of dog treats. Pulling one out and hanging it to Rocky, he softly said, “good work boy, that was a good one.”</p><p>Evan almost missed watching the entire exchange as his brain threatened to short circuit because did Connor Murphy seriously find him <em>attractive?  </em>He...really wasn't, and while Evan knew that his brain could be a little bit of a liar sometimes, he had plenty of comebacks and evidence to argue that with.  </p><p>Once the bag of treats was away, Connor turned and looked at him, “But seriously, you wouldn’t have brought up the question of ‘is this a date’ if you didn’t secretly hope at the back of your mind that it was. And, since it seems you’re not actually going to say that, I will. Do you want to go on another, proper date with me?”</p><p>“We’ve known each other for all of three days,” Evan exclaimed before he could stop himself, “don’t you think it's a little fast? Or, like, what if I’m actually an assassin and I was assigned to kill you?!”</p><p>“We’ve known of each other since kindergarten. I really don’t think that the five-year-old boy who said he wanted to be a truck when he grew up is an assassin,” Connor replied, his head cocked to the side with a look on his face that was much too attractive to be fair.</p><p>“How did you remember that?!” Evan exclaimed.</p><p>“I have a good memory,” Connor replied, as if that explained one single thing, “you still haven’t given me an answer. Do you want to go on a real date sometime in the near future?”</p><p>“Yes,” Evan said much too quickly to be considered anything but eager, but he’d just gotten the answer to his question that had kept him awake all night.</p><p>“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Connor said, “but seriously though if you don’t want to, all you have to say is no, then I’ll back off and we can just be friends. Or, I mean, we don’t have to talk again if you don’t want that either.”</p><p>“No!” Evan exclaimed and when Connor’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, Evan amended, “I mean, no to not talking again. Yes to dating. Oh god, that was such a mess. I’m such a mess.”</p><p>“We can be messes together dude,” Connor said, before asking, “do you like museums?”</p>
<hr/><p>Evan couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Tuesday afternoon, he was going to a museum downtown with Connor. A real date. An actual, legitimate, real date with someone that he hadn’t been family friends with since the dawn of time.</p><p>No, Evan didn’t regret the failed attempt at a long-distance relationship with Jared during his first year of university. Not one ounce, and if anything, he was closer with him now because of it. But an entire state was really far away for two people who had either no car or no ability to drive.  It had been his first and only dating experience, and, it wasn't really that much of a dating experience anyways, because he already knew basically all there was to know about Jared from the start anyways.  While he wasn't a complete stranger to Connor, he didn't exactly know him either.  It excited him actually.</p><p>Unlocking the door to his mom’s house, Evan stepped through the front door to the smell of freshly baked cookies. He could not remember the last time that his mother had baked anything in their kitchen, let alone cookies.</p><p>“Hey mom, I’m home!” Evan called, dropping his work bag near the door and kicking off his well-worn hiking boots.</p><p>“In the kitchen darling,” his mother called back and he followed her voice. If he was going to be entirely honest here, it was a shock seeing her standing in the kitchen, elbow-deep in a bowl of batter, flour all over her apron and a rack of cooling cookies on the counter.</p><p>“Hi,” Evan said, sneaking behind her to grab a glass of water from the fridge.</p><p>“How was the breakfast?” she asked.</p><p>“Really good actually,” Evan said.</p><p>He wanted to say that he wished she could have come with him, but, and he supposed it sounded a little mean, but he was glad she didn’t. Three hours of uninterrupted time to hang out with Connor before having to go find a lost kid wouldn’t have been possible if she was there and probably just would have made it weird. Like, ‘hi, you barely know me and I invited you to this breakfast and here is my mom!’. Yeah. Weird.</p><p>“Awe honey, I’m glad,” she said, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead. With a sigh, he noticed that the swelling around her eye and on her cheek had gone down significantly, yet no less colourful than last night.</p><p>“How’s it feeling?” Evan asked.</p><p>“Like a hundred bucks,” his mother replied, “though Nancy isn’t letting me come back to work until my Thursday night shift.”</p><p>“Mom, just take this as a break. When was the last time you’ve got five days off in a row?” Evan argued.</p><p>“Of course darling,” she said, planting another kiss on his warm, gross and sweaty forehead, “we’re going to have to try to do some things together.”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Evan replied, deliberately taking a drink of water to prevent himself from having to answer any other questions while wondering how his life had gone from boring and mundane to complex and confusing in so little time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Mr. I Don't Want To Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Now that he was going on a real date with Evan, Connor realized that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. There was something about being severely depressed during the vast majority of his teenage years that had stunted his emotional growth a little. He’d never dated anyone and had never wanted to. Sure he’d had sex, but that wasn’t the same thing as dating. There had never once been a point in his life leading up to his first attempt and afterwards that he’d expected to get to this point in his life, and therefore never figured he’d have to think about it.</p><p>He needed advice and he needed it fast, because suddenly, it was Monday evening and he was going out with Evan in about fourteen hours. There were few people in his life he could actually talk with about things. However, he would bet any money that his sister did not want to hear about his love life, and the chances that she remembered Evan was too high. Back before Connor had left for Hanover and alienated his entire family, he would always talk to his sister, and she was the first person he’d ever told that he was gay. If the rambling statement of, “I think I like guys because I think Evan Hansen is cute,” while sitting on her bed as she painted his fingernails black for the first time counted as coming out. Phoning her about it now would just lead her to laugh at him and that was not going to help his cause.</p><p>The only other person Connor could think of was Olivia, because she seemed to either have lots of dating experience or lots of self-confidence. Most certainly both. So as he saw her coming towards the bar with an order ticket for him to pass through the serving window to Colton, Connor swallowed the gathering spit in his mouth. If he was going to do this, he had to do it with some finesse. He needed another shot of vodka, though sadly, there wasn’t enough time for that because Olivia, in all her tightly clothed glory, was marching in his direction.</p><p>Handing over the handwritten ticket, Olivia leaned on the bar like she did when she’d run out of tasks to complete and wanted to talk. Connor saw his opportunity and took it, asking, “how does one go about dating someone?”</p><p>“Why?” she asked, but before Connor could answer, she continued, “did you, ‘Mr. I Don’t Want To Date,’ manage to find a date?”</p><p>“This isn’t an interrogation,” Connor said, barely keeping the snark in his voice under wraps. He needed another shot of vodka and he needed it now. Pulling the bottle of the cheap, crappy but strong stuff from behind the counter, Connor poured himself a glass.</p><p>“Don’t be yourself, that's for damn sure,” Olivia said, leaning on the counter and deliberately pushing more of her...chest...towards him. If Connor saw anyone else other than Olivia doing that, he’d throw one of his hooded sweatshirts at them and tell them to promptly put it on. He knew that Olivia did it to everyone and would probably punch him for the sweatshirt. Instead, he just ignored the display.</p><p>“Then who the hell am I supposed to be if not myself?” Connor asked, drinking his shot and putting the glass on the washing belt, “Don’t people always say to not pretend to be someone you’re not?”</p><p>That’s certainly what his therapist told him. To focus on the parts of yourself that you want people to see. Long wavy hair was much more aesthetically pleasing than his ears that stuck out from the sides of his head. Muscles were better than gangly limbs. The birthmark just above his right hip was better than the scars above his left. It was all in the way that you thought about it. Which wasn’t foolproof, however, the tactic did have its merits. Connor didn’t feel as bad about his body as he used to.</p><p>“I dunno Connor, just don’t be a snarky grouch,” Olivia said, peeling herself off the counter and walking back towards the grill seating to deal with the next group of patrons.</p><p>Connor carefully refrained from forcefully letting his head connect with the bar in front of him. While it was tempting, he’d gotten past that phase at Hanover and he didn’t really want to let his hair hang in front of his face to hide the bruises on his date with Evan, which was now occurring in exactly thirteen hours and forty-eight minutes.</p><p>“So you actually have a date? Or are you just fucking with Olivia? Because if that’s what you’re doing, there are like, a thousand better ways of doing it that I can think of,” Lee said from his place at the host station.</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes at the small skinny guy with the obnoxiously shaggy black hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a couple of days, though he bet that due to the lighting in the bar, Lee wouldn’t have even been able to see it.</p><p>“You know what?” Connor said, leaning down on the bar and glaring at Lee, “humour me. How are you planning on driving Olivia crazy? Because you obviously have a crush on her and its always best to ask the pros.”</p><p>Connor knew he was being a little bit of an asshole to Lee, teasing him about how he obviously thought very highly of Olivia’s appearance, but the kid had been nothing but a pain in his butt since he’d started working at Spillways. Lee didn’t even go out of his way to bug Connor, it was just his personality and ability to just be so unbelievably dense, observant and intelligent all at the same time. Like the time that he’d somehow managed to wear his Spillway’s belt home. He’d taken everything else off and yet somehow managed to forget that. Connor just didn’t understand it.</p><p>“I don’t have a crush on her,” Lee said, though he didn’t sound upset about Connor implying that, so he just dropped the topic. Connor never really understood how his brain let him be such a different person around certain people, but he was sure if Evan saw his behaviour right now, he’d probably run for the hills while screaming.</p><p>“But you should just like...drop hints about dating someone but whenever she asks, just outright deny it. That’d piss her off for sure,” Lee said with a cackling laugh. Connor thanked the lucky stars of Spillways that there were very few people in the grill area and bar because that laugh of Lee’s was really loud.</p><p>“I’m not dating anyone,” Connor said. He honestly didn’t know why he was denying it in front of Lee, because he knew that Lee was too shy around Olivia to spill any beans anyways, but it was important to him to be a little cautious.</p><p>“Yeah. Sure. I believe you but thousands wouldn’t,” Lee replied.</p><p>“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Connor asked.</p><p>“Language,” Colton called from the kitchen.</p><p>Connor refrained from flipping the young short-order cook his middle finger over his shoulder because he figured that that wouldn’t help anyone. Colton was just trying to be helpful and Connor, like usual, found himself wanting to be an asshole. And Colton was legitimately just trying to help. A couple of years younger than Connor, he was a little naive still but was a fully capable cook and a decent human being. He didn’t deserve to be at the receiving end of Connor’s nastiness.</p><p>“It means that you’re obviously dating someone. Because you’re just...I dunno man...different or something I guess,” Lee explained.</p><p>“Okay, whatever,” Connor said, “I actually have to do my job now.”</p><p>“Suit yourself dude,” Connor heard Lee say as he’d already turned to go down the bar, looking to see if the only two people sitting there wanted anything else and to refill the bar munchie bowl.</p><p>The tasks didn’t take long to complete and once he was done, Connor sat on his stool to start rolling up some of the coins in the register. It was an important task and something mundane enough that Connor would have to try really hard to screw it up. Of course, in true Connor Murphy nature, he could find a way to screw it up, it was guaranteed. As he scowled down at his coin rolling, he tried to ignore the sound on his father’s voice echoing inside his head.</p><p>From his pocket, Connor felt a buzz. Pulling out his phone, he saw a new message from his sister.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Zoe Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yo goof</p>
  <p>are you coming to mom’s party?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>mom is having a party?</p>
</blockquote><p>And if that didn’t make him feel better. Yeah, he had been the one to disown himself after high school and hadn’t talked with his parents properly in three years, but it was more so the fact that Zoe still assumed that they would actually want to talk with him. Because there was no reason that they would. There was no redeeming quality to having him as a son. No reason to want to talk with him in the first place. And that was okay with Connor. For the most part.</p><p>Somewhere deep down inside his chest, there was a little piece of him that was just a little kid that wanted to be loved. Maybe that was how he’d ended up feeling himself getting so attached to Evan so quickly. He’d spoken with his therapist about unhealthy attachments to people. And yet, as much as he listened to his therapist and tried to work on being a decent person, Connor just felt himself wanting to fall back into his old bad habits. Aside from smoking. Connor never really felt the desire to do that ever again.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Zoe Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah.</p>
  <p>guess your not coming, huh?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>wasnt invited</p>
  <p>wasnt going to come anyways</p>
  <p>not going to break my streak of not talking with them</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Zoe Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>still holding onto that?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>not letting go anytime soon</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Zoe Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>don't joke about that</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sorry</p>
  <p>you know i wouldnt</p>
  <p>not anymore</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Zoe Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>you better fucking not</p>
  <p>good night dork</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>gnight spaz</p>
</blockquote>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Its Not A Girl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm going to put a trigger warning reminder at the beginning of this chapter for:<br/>- mentions of past self-harm<br/>- mentions of a past suicide attempt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stripping out of his park uniform with a record time, Evan raced towards his closet and, in just his boxers, stared into it while trying to will inspiration to fly into his brain. His fashion sense had always been slightly lacking. Starting with army-surplus clothes followed closely by clothes from Target, he’d never really had much chance to dress up. Not that he wanted to, because that would have drawn more attention to him than needed in high school. That meant that he didn’t know what to do when the time rolled around to actually wear decent clothes. Clothes that weren’t his park uniform or a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.</p><p>“What are you doing sweetheart?” Evan heard his mother ask from his doorway. Crossing the room to sit down on his bed, she dropped off a basket of laundry that he started last night.</p><p>It was weird having her home so much. Until thursday, she was off work and they hadn’t spent this much time together since Evan’s twelfth year of school. He was used to having a quiet house and a place to watch his documentaries in peace. One of the things he had gotten used to was the luxury of changing with his bedroom door open and occasionally wandering around in just his underwear if he felt like it. He had forgotten that she was at home.</p><p>Even though he knew his mom knew that there were scars that he’d carved into his legs, made in the year leading up to his attempt, he still self consciously covered himself with the first thing that he could find. Which just happened to be his old grey sweater that had fallen off its hook. He knew he must have looked ridiculous, holding the sweater like a dress in front of his body.</p><p>Evan knew, without a doubt, that his mother would have finished her legal degree had he not attempted to kill himself. It was a fact. She said she dropped out to spend more time with him, but Evan knew she did that so he didn’t have to get admitted to the in-patient program and miss his entire last year of high school. And the scars on his legs? They were evidence of that. Evidence of the fact that he was basically a walking medicine cabinet. Evidence that his mother had given up everything for him. Evidence that Secondary Warden Evan Hansen wasn’t as happy or as perfect as he wanted people to think.</p><p>“Getting changed,” Evan replied quickly before turning around and looking through his closet. The sooner he got a pair of pants on the better. Maybe he should wear his beige ones. While he wore beige almost every day at his job, it was definitely a colour that Evan knew he liked and was comfortable in.</p><p>“This spontaneous trip to a museum…,” his mother started, “It wouldn’t happen to be a date, would it?”</p><p>Evan closed his eyes and breathed in and out a couple of times before turning around. He knew he was going to regret telling his mom about going to the museum the second it came out of his mouth last night. It was just that it was the first time since Evan could remember that they’d eaten more than one meal in a row with each other and he’d gotten excited. But the one thing that he’d selectively decided not to mention was that it was a date.</p><p>He was excited about this whole thing and he wanted it to go well. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to accidentally make him get stressed out over the most random things. Somehow his mother’s personal anxieties always leaked over into his own and he really didn’t want to take any of his anxiety meds right now. He knew they worked and they did calm him down, but he didn’t want to feel dull while hanging out with Connor.</p><p>Instead of replying to his mother, Evan turned around again to look through his closet. Zipping up his fly on his beige pants, he subconsciously started scratching at his scarred flesh.</p><p>“Evan,” his mother said with a warning tone. She knew exactly what he was doing and while he was in no danger of reopening old wounds, it was a bad habit. Evan immediately dropped his hands and she continued, “you know honey, if it is a date, that is totally okay.”</p><p>He swallowed hard. The one person he’d never come out to was his mom. The year that he and Jared dated, neither of them told their parents. It had just never really crossed their minds to tell anyone about their relationship until they made it more official and less online. And then they realized that they were better off to just stay as friends. After that, Evan had never dated anyone else and so he figured that there was no need to tell his mother.</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” Evan said, turning around and folding his arms over his stomach self consciously. Even though Evan had replaced the vast majority of the chubby skin around his stomach with muscle, there were still a few things that had just been ingrained into his system for such a long time that he did it without thinking.</p><p>“So which museum is it going to be?” His mother asked, leaning down onto her knees and letting a smile cross her face. Maybe she was actually interested in something that he was doing, but Evan doubted it briefly.</p><p>“American Museum of Natural History,” Evan replied, blindly reaching behind him and grabbing the first shirt that he could feel. Not caring about which one it was, he pulled it over his head and looked around for his pair of shoes that weren’t his park boots.</p><p>“Evan, come sit with me for a second honey,” his mother said, tapping the space on his bed beside her. Forcing himself to not roll his eyes at her sudden change in demeanour, Evan crossed the room and landed on the plaid bedspread beside her.</p><p>“If this was a date, you know I wouldn’t be upset, right?” she said, reaching out and placing a hand on his knee in what Evan assumed was supposed to be a soothing manner.</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Evan replied, tugging at the shirt he’d grabbed. It was too small, too tight and the tag itched the back of his neck. He was not wearing this one to the museum.</p><p>“But you’re just going by yourself, huh?” she asked and that was when Evan realized that he’d managed to successfully talk himself into a corner. That was one thing about his mother. She could smell bullshit from a mile away.</p><p>“Okay, so maybe it's a date,” Evan confessed exasperatedly, “but it's just the first one, so, you know, nothing, like, official yet or anything.”</p><p>“I’m so glad honey!” his mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together and wrapping her arms around his frame. Shrinking in on himself from the physical contact that he was still not used to, Evan managed to force a small smile.</p><p>“So what’s her name?” his mother asked and Evan grit his teeth. The moment of truth. The moment where everything could either go sideways or full steam ahead.</p><p>Evan never feared that his mother would kick him out or disown him if he came out. That was never once a fear that crossed his mind. Even through the raging anxiety and panic that Evan managed to face every day, logic won out because he knew his mother loved him. She’d said that she didn’t care who he loved as long as they were a good person and Evan believed her. It was just a function of actually deciding to open his mouth and tell the truth - a skill he had once not been so good at. And while lying was not a good alternative, his brain was screaming at him to do it.</p><p>But that was wrong. Evan knew it was. He’d had trouble with telling small white lies back in high school. White lies that would snowball into massive disasters. Massive disasters that Evan was still reminded of to this day by the marks on his legs and the metal plates holding the shattered bones in his left arm together.</p><p>So he swallowed hard, looked his mom in the eye and managed to mutter, “<em>its not a girl</em>.”</p><p>“Her name is Nagarill?” his mother replied with confusion, obviously having not heard what he said.</p><p>“Its not a girl,” Evan said. He had hoped that the words would come out at speaking volume, and yet with the built-up mental force he’d put behind it, they were considerably closer to yelling volume. Evan knew his cheeks were turning bright red as he slapped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment before promptly turning away from his mother.</p><p>“Evan,” she said, her voice cautious, as if he was a scared animal that she was afraid of having run away from her. Her nurse voice.</p><p>“Evan honey, I’m not mad,” she said and Evan could feel the bed behind him shift and move. Suddenly, she was kneeling in front of him, her face spread into a wide smile.</p><p>“I love you darling. And this doesn’t change that one little bit, okay? I’m still so happy that you’re going on a date.”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Evan managed to grunt out, his throat threatening to close up with the emotions that he was feeling. There were too many that he hadn’t dealt with in a long time and he could feel them bubbling to the surface.</p><p>“Was this why you didn’t tell me it was a date?” his mother asked, reaching out and grabbing onto his hands.</p><p>“Kinda, yeah,” Evan confessed.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m so sorry I ever made you think for a minute that this would be a problem. Okay?”</p><p>“You didn’t mom,” Evan said, leaning forwards a little. He let himself be pulled in for a hug as he let out a breath. It felt like years worth of nights lying awake exhaled all at once.</p><p>“So what’s the lucky guy’s name?” she asked, a mischievous smile crossing her features</p><p>“Connor,” Evan replied, feeling a smile creep across his face before he could stop it, “I met him at the park.”</p><p>“See honey,” she said, “I know that job would do so much good for you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan agreed, “it's good.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Alright Then, Keep Your Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Parking in the lot underneath the museum, Connor breathed a sigh of relief when he found a spot to wedge his car into. He fully acknowledged the fact that he could have just taken public transit, but he also wanted to actually enjoy his outing with Evan. Connor had never once had a good experience on public transit. There was just something about combining a panic disorder with throngs of people that all wanted to pet Rocky. Yeah. He wasn’t going to mess around with that.</p><p>Heading towards the elevators with Rocky at his side, Connor checked his pockets for the fifth time since he’d found his parking spot and was able to confirm that, yes, he had his phone, his wallets and the tickets to the museum that he’d gotten from school. He was taking a wild guess that Evan would like to go to the Museum of Natural History, because, well, he seemed to like nature and, well, he already had the tickets.</p><p>They’d been in some weird draw he had accidentally been entered in at school and he had been planning on giving them to Asa to use with his grandkids. Then he stumbled into Evan’s life and it seemed like the perfect activity. But he wasn’t going to tell Evan that. He just hoped that there were enough exhibits that Evan would be interested in.</p><p>The last time Connor remembered going to this museum was with a field trip in the tenth grade. He supposed that Evan likely would have been on that field trip as well, but Connor couldn’t actually remember because he’d been high as a kite that whole morning. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten high, he could remember if Evan actually seemed interested in the exhibits or not, but in reality, Connor was just trying to numb the pain of his pitiful existence with whatever he had around.</p><p>The elevators opened on the ground floor and Connor spotted Evan immediately. Hands stuffed in his pockets, back to the elevator doors, Connor realized that the last time he’d seen Evan wearing something other than a park uniform was back in the tenth grade, and it was debatable how much of that he actually remembered. Now, in beige khakis, a green button up shirt and black running shoes with a navy blue jacket and a small backpack on, Connor felt the attraction hit him like a punch in the gut. Evan was attractive in his park uniform, yes. But Evan in normal clothes, that was just...hot.</p><p>“Hey,” Connor said as he approached Evan. Turning around, Connor was met with a wide grin from Evan.</p><p>“Hey Connor,” Evan said, pulling his hands out of his pockets to give him a small wave before saying, “and hello to you too Rocky.”</p><p>The dog in question looked up at Evan as he sat down on the granite floor - which probably felt nice to him. He looked a little squished in his full service vest and metal harness, but from experience, Connor knew that fewer people tried to bug Rocky in public if he was entirely dressed up. The second they got back to the car, Connor would take it off of him. It just wasn’t fair for Rocky to wear it all the time if he didn’t need to.</p><p>“I have the tickets already, are you ready to do this?” Connor asked, tilting his head in the direction of the gates to the main part of the museum.</p><p>“You already have them?” Evan squeaked, sounding a little confused.</p><p>“Magic,” Connor replied sarcastically, though tacked a smile onto the end to let Evan know that he was joking. He may have attempted to get into the practice of witchcraft in high school, but Connor knew, without a doubt, that he was not magic.</p><p>“Alright then, keep your secrets,” Evan said as they started walking.</p><p>“Lord of the Rings,” Connor replied almost immediately, his train of thought rapidly jumping tracks.</p><p>"What?” Evan asked, obviously confused.</p><p>“You quoted Lord of the Rings,” Connor said with a soft laugh. They were in the mostly empty lobby of a museum and the last thing that he wanted to do was draw more attention to himself.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Evan said with a laugh that seemed to come deep from inside his chest, “I guess I did, didn’t I?”</p><p>“You’re a poet and you don’t even know it,” Connor said as they approached the ticket desk.</p><p>Handing the two pieces of glossy card-stock over to the lady at the desk, he could see her looking down at Rocky with curiosity.</p><p>“Licenced service dog?” she asked as she handed back the tickets.</p><p>“Yes ma’am,” Connor replied.</p><p>“Do you have the proof of registration?” she asked and Connor felt the heat of panic and anger mixing and creeping up the back of his neck. It didn’t matter how many times someone asked him, someone questioning Rocky’s status always made his heart leap into his throat.</p><p>His therapist always said that there was no fault in needing Rocky by his side as much as he did and that relying on Rocky. He said that it made sense that Connor felt so disgusting when someone threatened his ability to bring Rocky somewhere with him. It didn’t make Connor feel any better in the long run though. Mature adults can function for long enough to pull a card out of the pocket of a service dog vest and that was what Connor was supposed to be working on at therapy.</p><p>That was why Connor kept giving up on therapy in the past. He just never seemed to be getting better. No matter what he did, nothing ever changed. Sure, things were better than they were in high school, but that didn’t mean he was good. The fact that he practically relied on Rocky to get from day to day. Logically, he knew it wasn’t a bad thing, but, it just seemed like a safety crutch.</p><p>“Connor,” he heard Evan calmly say, “Connor, do you have the card?”</p><p>“Yeah. Card. Right,” Connor muttered to himself but found himself unable to move. What if the card had gotten scratched? What if he’d forgotten to put it back into its plastic pocket? What if it wasn’t actually where it was supposed to be and was in his wallet?</p><p>“Connor, where is it?” Evan calmly asked, grabbing onto Connor’s arm.</p><p>The touch prevented Connor letting his brain start floating above him, completely convinced that he wasn’t real. That was one thing Connor didn’t need weed to do. His brain was perfectly capable of dissociating without any external influence. That was one thing that he always hated about smoking weed. Sure it calmed him down, but it made his brain dissociate like crazy and that was just never helpful.</p><p>“Pocket,” Connor managed to choke out, “The vest pocket.”</p><p>“Okay Connor, I’ll grab it for you,” Evan said, patting Connor’s arm twice before letting go.</p><p>Clenching his hands tight until he felt his knuckles crack, Connor tried desperately to not let himself dissociate completely. Then he felt a small lick against his clenched palm. Rocky. He was still there. Right. Letting Rocky cover his hand in small licks, Connor could feel his vision focusing and the floaty fog in his brain clearing. Not entirely, but it was certainly on its way out.</p><p>“Did you find it?” Connor asked, looking down at Rocky and finding the clear pocket that he usually put Rocky’s card in empty.</p><p>“Yeah, it's all good,” Evan replied, grabbing Connor’s arm and practically dragging him through the ticket gate.</p><p>Once they were through, Connor had the vague sensation of being led to a bench and sitting on it, but it really didn’t feel like his actions, more just like he’d accidentally been put on autopilot.</p><p>“Why don’t you have one of these?” Evan said, holding something vaguely green coloured in front of Connor’s face. When had his vision gone so out of focus?</p><p>He didn’t know what Evan was handing him, but he figured that Evan was a decent guy and wasn’t going to kill him, so he took whatever it was and stuck it in his mouth. Suddenly, it felt like someone had connected an electric charge to his tongue and he felt as if he was being physically dragged back into his body. Blinking a couple of times, the ringing in his ear faded and his eyes focusing again.</p><p>Sour candy. He remembered his therapist saying something about how he could use sour candy to ground himself if he started panicking so hard it turned into dissociation. Or for just plain old dissociation, which, in hindsight, it sure seemed like what had just happened. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar feeling but he was just immensely surprised that it had actually worked.</p><p>Sitting on the bench, Connor looked down at Rocky’s concerned features and leaned down to plant a kiss on his head. Once he straightened his back again, Connor gave Rocky the silent command to lay down. Following his instruction, Rocky laid his head down on the cool floor and closed his eyes. Connor wished he could do the same.</p><p>“Look man, about that-,” Connor started before Evan cut him off.</p><p>“Are you feeling better?” Evan asked. Connor looked at him silently, unblinking for a couple of counts. How was Evan not running for the hills after that little display? God, he couldn’t even get the date started on the right foot. Why was Evan still here? Connor was the creep in high school and the freak now. He’d never grow out of it. That was how mental illness works, Connor thought with an internal laugh.</p><p>“I guess,” Connor said, “thanks for the candy, but really, you can just like, leave now. Because that was weird and a horrible way to start the first date, you know?”</p><p>“Nope,” Evan said, “not going to happen.”</p><p>“Why?” Connor asked.</p><p>“Why what?” Evan replied, “why am I saying? Because I want to.”</p><p>“Yeah but you don’t have to,” Connor argued lightly. Rolling up the sleeve of his jacket, Evan let a metal bracelet slide down his wrist. On it, Connor could see a red medical alert sign with some small black lettering underneath. He’d never noticed it before.</p><p>“See what this says?” Evan asked before reading it for Connor, “Severe Anxiety Disorder. I don’t think we’re as different as it may seem. So come on, I want to go see some of the exhibits.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay,” Connor agreed, standing and following Evan into the main gallery with a smile, Rocky trailing behind eagerly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just wanted to let y'all know that I have been called back to work (yay!) but that means I'll have significantly less time to write.  I will keep working on this story, but updates will become less frequent in all likelihood.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. A Ride Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you need a ride home?” Connor asked as they walked out of their last exhibit. Connor had to go to work and, well, Evan was pretty tired himself from being at work that morning.</p><p>“I was just going to take the train,” Evan said.</p><p>While it wasn’t his favourite activity on the planet, he’d just never had the confidence or lack of anxiety to actually get behind the wheel of a car. He didn’t think there was enough Antivan on the planet to get him into the driver's seat and actually make the car move. Public transit though? It took years of practice but he could take the train or bus anywhere in the city completely alone.</p><p>“Where do you live? I can drop you off on my way to work, it's really not a big deal, I promise,” Connor replied.</p><p>“Okay, but the least I can do is pay you for gas,” Evan said.</p><p>“Mmmm,” Connor hummed as they started in the general direction of the elevator down to the carpark, “No, you know what?”</p><p>“What?” Evan asked as he pressed the button for them to go down.</p><p>“How about this, you get to choose what we do next,” Connor replied and Evan smiled, which made the taller boy smile in return. Though, that put all the pressure onto Evan’s shoulders to not only choose an activity for their next outing but to also text Connor first, initiate conversation and explain whatever it was that he was going to pick. But he shoved that down because, well, there was still the fact that he’d accidentally ended up accepting a car ride home with Connor.</p><p>Which made the back of his neck feel warm and prickly. It wasn’t that he thought something bad was going to happen between him and Connor in the car...okay maybe a few of those thoughts were thrown in there for good measure as well, but there were a dozen other things at the front of his mind. Including but not limited to trying to maintain a conversation the entire ride and explaining that he still lived with his mother on the bad side of the tracks. And, well, if he could hear Jared’s voice in the back of his head whispering, “that Murphy kid looks like he’s going to stab you in the back with an X-acto knife,” Evan wasn’t going to listen to it.</p><p>Because today at the museum showed Evan the real Connor. Not the one liberally coated in fake confidence at the bar or the jittery and brash one from the park. No, this was the real Connor. The one who listened and smiled as Evan rambled on about Jurassic trees and made sure that they stopped at water fountains for Rocky. The one whose brain had almost stopped entirely when Rocky was questioned. The Connor who relied on another animal to get through his day. Not the cold-blooded-serial-killer that Jared had convinced Evan of in the tenth grade.</p><p>Approaching a car that Evan was certain he’d seen parked in the main lot of Ellison a handful of times - the bumper stickers made it stand out - Connor pulled out a ring of keys and manually unlocked the door. Sticking his head through its interior, he unlocked the passenger side and Evan pulled the door open. Climbing into the seat, he watched over his shoulder as Connor helped Rocky onto the bed that had been built into the backseat. It looked like Connor had ripped out the backseats entirely and had converted that space and the trunk space into a bed for Rocky - complete with blankets, pillows and a box of various toys.</p><p>Once his vest had been removed, Connor slid into the driver's seat and coaxed the car to life. Evan knew that he wasn’t one to speak - as he couldn’t even drive - but he wondered why Connor was driving around in a car that had to be older than the both of them. It wasn’t an unknown fact back in high school that the Murphy family was incredibly well off. Well, actually, the vast majority of that school was. But still, the question remained, why was this his vehicle of choice?</p><p>As they pulled out of the parking lot, Connor asked, “What part of town are you in?”</p><p>Evan relayed the address and Connor nodded before questioning, “How on earth did you end up getting placed at Bradbury? I thought that the boundary line was the train tracks?”</p><p>“Yeah, that is the boundary,” Evan agreed before swallowing and explaining, “we used to live within the Bradbury boundary. Then we moved and my mom and some other people who knew me talked to the school board and let me stay within the other district.”</p><p>Yet another reason that Evan didn’t like talking about high school with people. Because, for some reason, everyone seemed to just know that his current neighbourhood wasn’t included in the Bradbury boundary lines and then he had to explain that his mom and therapist thought that he was too fragile to try to make new friends and meet new people after they moved. Which wasn't exactly false, but it just wasn’t something Evan liked talking about. That and the fact that they had to move because the old house was in danger of getting foreclosed on.</p><p>“Huh,” Connor said as they merged onto the freeway - Evan holding onto the seat so hard his knuckles turned white - while adding, “I’m surprised they let you do that.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan agreed, “I was too. Or...I am too, I didn’t really think about it way back then. I was just excited that I wouldn't have to meet new people and I could still follow Jared around all day.”</p><p>“Kleinman,” Connor muttered, “How is that guy? Haven’t seen him in forever.”</p><p>“Third year at MIT,” Evan reported, “Honestly, hasn’t really changed.”</p><p>“Damn, I knew that guy was smart but I never thought he was MIT smart,” Connor said.</p><p>“I don’t think he did either,” Evan admitted, “He got scouted at some coding tournament in grade eleven.”</p><p>“I missed a lot,” Connor said, not taking his eyes off the road.</p><p>From where he was sitting, Evan could see Connor gripping the steering wheel harder and he could hear Rocky rattling around in the back seat. The large brown dog - that Evan had almost forgotten about his presence - wasn’t getting up to his feet or anything yet, which he assumed was a good thing, but he also wasn't entirely still. Connor was upset about leaving Bradbury. Evan didn’t exactly know why he’d left, but there had been rumours. He’d been anywhere from expelled, stolen a car, got sent to jail, shot up a mall, killed himself, gotten killed or moved to Mexico. The last thought had been Jared’s personal addition to the speculation. Maybe there was one truth in the bucket of lies, but that was just not something that Evan was going to start discussing with Connor unless he brought it up first.</p><p>“You know, Hanover sucked,” Connor said, briefly looking over at Evan, “that was the boarding school I got sent to after grade eleven. Which, fine, got me out of my parent’s hair, but like, imagine being stuck with the same group of guys every second of every day for two whole years.”</p><p>Oh yeah, Connor had mentioned his boarding school. Right. He hadn’t gone off and done any of the other - frankly more interesting and disturbing - things that their classmates had suggested. God those kids were assholes, Evan now realized, looking back on ninety percent of the interactions he’d ever had with any of them.</p><p>“That would be awful,” Evan said before an amusing thought crossed his mind and caused him to snort out loud. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the embarrassment, but the cat was out of the bag.</p><p>“What?” Connor asked his voice light and joking.</p><p>“Did you realize you were gay because of the boarding school?” Evan asked, trying to contain the image of Connor from high school staring at the other guys in the halls with slack-jawed-awe while wearing a tight, preppy, boarding school uniform.</p><p>“Nah,” Connor replied with a conspiratorial grin, “I knew way before that.”</p><p>“So it was just torture then?” Evan asked.</p><p>“Basically,” Connor admitted, “you know, my roommate in grade eleven was my unofficial boyfriend until he got kicked out. Then my roommate in grade twelve was convinced that I was a witch and was going to cast a spell on him in his sleep.”</p><p>“Fun,” Evan drolled before adding, “but please tell me you pretended to cast a spell on that guy.”</p><p>“Oh I played so many mind games on him you wouldn’t have even believed it,” Connor replied as he switched on his signal light and changed lanes into the merge off the highway. The fact that he used his signal light was something Evan appreciated and even though he couldn’t force himself to get behind the wheel of a car, he knew the rules of the road and hated when people didn’t use the small light. Just make cars all that more scary and unpredictable.</p><p>“So which house is yours?” Connor asked as he turned down Evan’s street, the car jostling over the potholes that hadn’t been paved over in years. Ever since they’d moved in, and Evan had fallen off of his bike while he was biking on the street, he’d not only never biked again but also had taken note that the road hadn’t been fixed since he was at least eight. One of the lovely benefits of living in a neighbourhood that the city just couldn’t care about.</p><p>“The yellow one,” Evan replied as Connor pulled off to the side of the road.</p><p>At least last summer Guss had offered to help his mother repaint the exterior of their small dwelling. That, combined with the fact that his mother was an avid gardener when she actually had the time, so, compared to some of the houses around them, theirs wasn't so bad. Not as bad as Connor’s probably, but Evan really wasn’t one to judge. It was something he’d learned early on in high school. To not be bothered about living on the other side of the tracks.</p><p>“Hey, so...I really had a good time today,” Evan said with a smile as he twisted in his seat.</p><p>“Me too,” Connor replied, “and I mean it, you choose the activity for next time, okay?  Whatever you want.”</p><p>“Alright,” Evan said, “I’ll text you?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Connor said as Evan cracked the door open, “have a good night, yeah?”</p><p>“You too,” Evan said as he climbed out of the car, “have a safe shift.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Don't Get Attached</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor felt Rocky’s cold nose nudge its way between the bottom of his pants leg and his sock. It was just barely ten minutes past eight am and Connor felt himself almost falling asleep in his Shakespearean Literature 423 lecture. The course was boring, the professor was as dull as eating chalk and he’d already read most of the plays they were planning on studying for the reminder of the semester back at Hanover. Connor only took the course for easy credits, but at eight am in the morning, there was not enough coffee on the face of the planet to get him hyped for this lecture.</p><p>Or, if he drank too much coffee, he’d end up with his annoyingly persistent panic disorder taking over. Did he save his document from the night before? Who knows, but what if there is a fire drill sometime in the next hour? Connor knew how to gracefully walk the line of caffeinated and panicked but Rocky seemed to not like either. And, well, Connor hated when it was his fault that Rocky was constantly on alert.</p><p>From where he was resting his head on the lecture theatre desk, Connor jerked his leg away from the cold nose instinctively and he heard Rocky whine softly from where he was calmly curled up. He just wanted attention. Dropping his hand down the side of his chair, Connor smoothed his fingers through the insanely soft fur on the top of Rocky’s head.<br/>
Once Rocky settled down under the desk again, Connor tried to pay attention to the professor at the podium. It just felt like his brain had been turned off. No matter how hard he tried to listen, no matter how hard he tried to follow, it felt like someone had shoved cotton wool between his ears and told him to solve complex math equations. He was so helplessly unable to concentrate it was frustrating.</p><p>Then his pocket buzzed. The only person who would be texting him at 8:17 in the morning would be Evan, Connor noted with a smile. Ellison State Park opened its gates for the day at five in the morning and Evan seemed to only do morning shifts. Besides, no one else ever texted him nowadays. Aside from the occasional shift coverage text or friendly check-in from Colton or Lee after a hard shift, he never heard from his family anymore. And if his sister was going to text him, it was rarely before noon.</p><p>Pulling out his phone, Connor keyed in his lock code and saw the new message from Evan.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>okay, so, I know you said you wanted me to choose the next activity or something, but I really don’t know what to choose and its been almost a week.</p>
  <p>I really do want to do something with you again</p>
  <p>I just don’t have any good ideas.</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>im sure youve come up with something decent</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I really haven’t</p>
  <p>Believe me when I say I’m not the most creative person on this planet</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>okay</p>
  <p>i believe you</p>
  <p>so do you want me to choose something</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Please</p>
  <p>Take me out of my misery</p>
  <p>Not literally</p>
  <p>This isn’t misery</p>
  <p>My creative juices just aren’t doing their job</p>
  <p>Oh my god that sounded so wrong</p>
  <p>I’m going to stop talking now</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>pottery barn</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>what?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>thats what were going to do</p>
  <p>Were going to pottery barn</p>
  <p>Because i think you are creative</p>
  <p>You just don’t...let yourself</p>
  <p>You know</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>just you wait and see</p>
  <p>I’m horrible at art</p>
  <p>Just you wait</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>i cant wait</p>
  <p>this sunday</p>
  <p>theres a pottery barn a couple blocks from the south gates at ellison I think</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yeah there is</p>
  <p>I’ll be there</p>
  <p>What time?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>1</p>
  <p>1 pm</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>no kidding 1 pm</p>
  <p>I’m going to pottery barn at 1 am</p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
  <p>Thats a really jerky thing to say</p>
  <p>But yeah, that sounds good</p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>evan</p>
  <p>dude</p>
  <p>its okay</p>
  <p>it made me laugh in class actually</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Did you actually laugh?</p>
  <p>Or just smile at your phone?</p>
  <p>Please tell me you didn’t actually laugh in class</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>nah</p>
  <p>you know when you look at a funny meme and you just huff air out through your nose but actively acknowledge that its funny</p>
  <p>yeah</p>
  <p>i did that</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>a) you look at memes?</p>
  <p>b) how did you describe that feeling and action so accurately?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>of course i look at memes</p>
  <p>i didnt</p>
  <p>like</p>
  <p>grow up under a rock</p>
  <p>though i think my parents probably did</p>
  <p>plus thats what you get when youre dating a english literature major</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>your parents grew up under a rock?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>a very conservative and catholic rock</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Sorry</p>
  <p>That must have been rough</p>
  <p>My mom was just one of those absentee parents that wasn’t really bothered by anything I did</p>
  <p>But also, a conservative and catholic rock?</p>
  <p>Now I’m picturing a rock wearing a priest’s clothes and thats definitely a weird mental image</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>see</p>
  <p>you are creative</p>
  <p>and you don’t even know it</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>if you say I’m a poet and I don’t know it, I’m going to hit you next time I see you.</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>ill hold you to that</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>oh really?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yes really</p>
  <p>you know i really am excited to see you again</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Me too</p>
  <p>You're evan more funny in person</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>did your phone just autocorrect even to evan</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>yes</p>
  <p>It does that more often than you’d think</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>one time my phone corrected my sisters name to zoo and i sent the message before i caught it</p>
  <p>she was pissed at me for weeks after that</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>haha, I bet</p>
  <p>I gotta run Connor</p>
  <p>Talk later?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sounds good</p>
  <p>cya</p>
</blockquote><p>Sliding his phone back into his pocket with a massive grin, Connor leaned back in his chair and revelled in the kick of serotonin that talking with Evan gave him. This past week and a half, Connor realized that he hadn’t had one bad day. Which never lasted and then afterwards, he crashed and he crashed hard.</p><p>He knew the cycle. He knew how his brain worked. Fuck, he’d been the one living with it in all its glorious dysfunction for almost twenty-two years. But that didn’t mean he was slightly concerned. After his roommate at Hanover got kicked out, Connor crashed hard. To the point that the school put him on some sort of watch because they were afraid of what he was going to try to do. Connor was afraid of himself. When he woke up in an ER, his mind floating with chemical happiness, he realized that he should never let himself get attached again…</p><p>Then he crashed into Evan’s life and completely forgot about that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Unpainted Clay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So...you’re going on a date again?” his mother asked that morning when she caught Evan in the washroom trimming up his beard.</p><p>He didn’t do it all that regularly - maybe once a week - but since he was going on yet another date with Connor, he figured that he could stand with trimming off a couple of loose hairs here and there. But in a significant oversight, he’d chosen to do it in the only up-stairs washroom in their house, which, of course, his mother wanted to use when she came home from her shift.</p><p>Honestly, Evan had gotten used to having his mom home all the time again, but now that she’d gotten cleared to go back to work, he actually missed her presence. Well, he always missed having his mom around, but somewhere along the way, he’d just realized that no matter what he did, nothing would change. If he wasn’t such a messed up kid, maybe his dad wouldn’t have left and moved across the country. Maybe if he could have just pretended to be normal...no. That wasn’t how it worked. He understood that now, four years into serious therapy.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan replied, running a brush through his beard one last time to loosen the remaining hairs that hadn’t fallen into the sink.</p><p>“With Connor again?” she asked, a bundle of at-home clothes tucked under her arm, waiting patiently for Evan to be done before using the shower.</p><p>“Yup,” Evan replied again, beginning to step out of the way to let his mom pass.</p><p>“You know, you could bring him around one of these days, I’d love to meet him,” she said, a look crossing her features that Evan wasn’t sure how to read. It certainly wasn’t one that he ever saw on a regular basis.</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” Evan replied, making it clear that he was done talking before heading out into the hall and back towards his room before he accidentally ended up agreeing to anything else.</p><p>Besides, he’d been on all of two dates with Connor, if he counted the one at the pancake breakfast. Who asks someone to meet their parents on a second - or third, depending on what you counted - date? That was just ridiculous. And besides, they’d barely talked about their parents or their family.</p><p>Evan knew Connor had a sister. Zoe Murphy was one grade younger than them and had stayed at Bradbury even after Connor left for boarding school. Evan always thought she was really neat and, perhaps, if he didn’t have a crush on his best friend followed by her older brother, maybe they could have made a cute couple. But the fact still stood that Connor had mentioned her all of one time. And his parents, he’d mentioned them twice, but only to allude in just as few words that he hated them and he thought that they hated him.</p><p>So he never pushed the issue, but also felt that bringing Connor over to meet his mother <em>at their house</em> was just taking it one step too far this early in their relationship. Maybe that was anxiety speaking or maybe it was common sense, but Evan really didn’t want to mess this up. He could do that perfectly well without any external assistance.</p>
<hr/><p>“What are you going to paint on?” Evan asked as they stood in front of the wall of unpainted ceramics at Pottery Barn.</p><p>He understood the theory of what they were supposed to be doing - find something to paint on, paint on it, and then give it to the people and they’d put it in the kiln to fire and then you came back to pick it up in a couple of days. Easy in theory. In practice, Evan had no idea what he wanted to choose because there were so many options.</p><p>“I dunno man, I was thinking about maybe doing a cup or a bowl or something,” Connor replied, looking down the row of shelves with a puzzled look on his face as if he was deeply considering what he was going to paint on.</p><p>“How about you?” Connor asked, “you chosen yet?”</p><p>“Not yet,” Evan replied with a nervous laugh before tugging on the shirt he’d chosen to wear.</p><p>“What about a mug or something?” Connor suggested, pointing to a couple before adding, “plus it’d be real practical. You could use it as a pencil holder or something.”</p><p>“Or I could drink coffee out of it,” Evan said with a laugh as he reached out and grabbed one of the beige mugs off the shelf to examine it closer.</p><p>“Yeah. I mean, that is what it's for,” Connor said, letting out a snorting laugh, “I didn’t even think of that.”</p><p>“Do you have lots of mugs full of pencils?” Evan asked, getting his giggles under control as he cradled his mug in his hands, waiting for Connor to make his choice on what to paint on.</p><p>“You’d be surprised,” Connor replied as he grabbed one of the more abstract-shaped mugs on the shelf. Looking at the ticket underneath the hole Connor had grabbed it out of, Evan saw that it said <em>left-hand specialty mug</em>.</p><p>“You’re left-handed?” Evan asked as they headed back to the assigned table that they’d been given when they’d come in a couple of minutes back.</p><p>Sitting down across from Connor, all the paints laid out in front of them, he watched as Connor reached out with his left hand for a paintbrush.</p><p>“Yup,” he said, dipping his brush in some of the yellow paint.</p><p>From under the table, Rocky let out a soft snuffle as he re-adjusted where he was laying on his paws, being extremely well behaved, considering the number of small children running around. Once again, the brown Newfoundlander was wearing his red “service dog” vest and so, any small children then had wanted to pet him when they came into the store were quickly told not to by their parents. Parents who Connor quietly thanked later as they were led to their painting table. Keeping Rocky’s swishing tale away from the ceramics, he seemed content to sit by Connor’s sneaker-clad feet and snooze.</p><p>“Cool,” Evan replied, leaning his head forwards into his hands and shaking them.</p><p>He had no idea what he was supposed to be painting on the mug. Maybe he had made the wrong choice, choosing this one. It wasn’t like taking a ceramic car or plane or something where he knew what colours were supposed to go where. This had no formula and no outlines. He was completely on his own and now he was out of ideas. By the time he looked up, Connor had already painted an outline of...something...on his mug and Evan’s was still entirely blank.</p><p>“So you know how I said I have no creative talent whatsoever?” Evan said, fiddling with the end of the paintbrush he’d grabbed, “this is a perfect example of that.”</p><p>“Paint a tree,” Connor suggested quickly, dipping the end of a new brush in an orange-brown colour.</p><p>“A tree?” Evan said with a smile as he reached forwards for a medium-sized paintbrush.</p><p>He was fairly certain the last time he’d painted something was back in the twelfth grade when he got stuck in an art class because he’d someone managed to miss collecting enough CTS credits to graduate. The teacher - whose name Evan couldn’t remember now - had been so disappointed in Evan’s art skills that she stopped commenting on his lack of creative ability. Or...that was what it seemed like. Maybe that was just his brain creating catastrophes again. Who knows?</p><p>“Yeah, like, do your favourite kind of tree and then paint something from Ellison on it,” Connor said, not looking up from his own mug, the tip of his tongue starting to peek out from between his lips. Evan thought it was cute. And, maybe if they weren’t in public and surrounded by dozens of sets of tiny eyes, he would have leaned forwards to press a kiss to his thin lips.</p><p>“Okay,” Evan said, dipping his paintbrush in some green paint and deciding to keep his mouth shut about the fact that basically any tree he tried to paint would end up looking the same. Connor didn’t need to know that his Northern Oak looked virtually identical to an Aspen or a Maple. They were having fun and that was what counted.</p><p>Looking over at Connor’s mug again Evan was absolutely mindblown at the amount of detail he had managed to get onto it with just one medium-small paintbrush. He wasn’t entirely sure what the final product was going to be, but Connors was already shaping up nicely. It was obvious that he knew his way around a set of paints.</p><p>“You’re good at that,” Evan commented as he worked on a comically cartoonish outline of a tree. If someone asked, he could try to explain that it was supposed to be a Northern Oak, but there was no way to tell just by looking at it.</p><p>“Did enough art therapy in my day,” Connor muttered, not looking up, “turns out you get pretty good at it if you do it enough.”</p><p>“Art therapy?” Evan asked and Connor suddenly snapped his head up, as if suddenly and painfully aware of the fact that he’d just shared about this therapy he had to do.</p><p>“Um...yeah,” Connor said, his hand stilling on the mug while Rocky stirred from under the table.</p><p>“And I thought that I had tried all the different types of therapies,” Evan said lightly, hoping to show Connor that it was okay to need help. It’d taken Evan much too long to figure that out.</p><p>“You too, huh?” Connor said, slowly and perhaps a little shakily going back to his mug.</p><p>“Yup,” Evan replied, “You know when I said I didn’t think we were that different, I wasn't just yanking your chain.”</p><p>“I know,” Connor replied, a small grin spreading across his features.</p><p>“And besides, just because you’ve got something going on in your head doesn’t mean I’m going to run away screaming or something,” Evan added, dipping his brush into some blue paint and spreading it around his lame tree to make some sky. He had to admit, it was kind of fun to be painting again. Especially since there were no stakes or grades attached to it.</p><p>The look Connor gave him made Evan wonder if people had run from him when they found out he needed therapy. Smiling over the table at Connor, he wanted to show him that he wasn’t planning on running anytime soon. Not if he could help it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so I definitely misunderstood what Pottery Barn was.  When I heard it in the musical, I assumed that it was one of those stores that you go on to paint on clay (I dunno if they have those in the States, but they do have them here).  Then I looked up Pottery Barn...turns out its an American home-store.  But I didn't want to change the name of it so I just...went with it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Blue And Purple Flowered Scrubs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I want y'all to think about something while you read this chapter...a chapter from Heidi's POV.  Instead of having the next chapter be from Evan's POV, he takes a little break and its Heidi's turn.  </p><p>TW: mentions of a past suicide attempt, an almost flashback</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor offered to drive Evan home again. It wasn’t particularly late, but the look on Evan’s face when he admitted that he had no idea how to drive and was just planning on taking transit home told Connor that he wasn’t looking forward to that activity in any way, shape or form. And really, it was just another excuse to spend more time with Evan than he already had.</p><p>It had been fun to paint with Evan, once the blond park ranger calmed down enough to actually just paint and let go of whatever was swirling around inside of his head. Once he realized that Connor wasn’t going to judge him for any of the awkwardly shaped trees that he painted onto the mug that he chose. Everything had really gone quite well, so when they were handing their creations over to the young lady at the desk to get fired, that was when Connor asked how Evan was planning on getting home. Because if he’d taken the train the other day, chances are, he’d be doing it again.</p><p>Then Evan blurted out that he actually didn’t have his licence followed by a rambled and stumbled explanation of how he really didn’t like driving or being in cars in general. With a smile, Connor assured him that that made sense and added that yeah, cars can be scary. He carefully didn’t mention how he’d drove his first car into a tree on his way home from Hanover after graduating grade twelve. Evan didn’t need to know that. He’d already accidentally shared about art therapy and really, that was enough sharing for a third date.</p><p>Pulling up to the yellow house, the bearings and axles on Connor’s car protesting loudly about the road that was littered in potholes, he could see a lady with faded blond hair kneeling in the front yard. Gardening, Connor’s brain supplied. Evan’s mom, it added. It must be her.</p><p>They seemed to have similar mannerisms, Connor noticed. The way that they smiled when they worked. The way they let their hair flop in front of their face, seemingly magically able to look past it with no problem. Constant movement in some way. It was obvious now, looking between Evan and his mom that they were related.</p><p>“I guess my mom decided to do some gardening,” Evan muttered, confirming Connor’s suspicions, while his voice sounded equally surprised and confused. As if this wasn’t something she did on a regular basis. Maybe it wasn’t. It's not like Connor’s parents ever did yard work. They had people that did that for him. Yet another thing on the ever-growing list of reasons why he couldn’t put up with them any longer.</p><p>“Yeah, she usually has no time for yard work,” Evan added and that was when Connor realized that he’d likely said his thoughts out loud.</p><p>Where had his filter gone? Usually, he was a lot better at not letting thoughts just...slip out. But around Evan, his filter just decided to fuck off to the Himylayas. Maybe it meant that he was comfortable around Evan? He actually had no idea, but given his select dating experiences in the past, Evan was definitely the cream of the crop. By far the kindest and most real person he’d ever dated.</p><p>“I had a really good time today,” Evan said, turning in his seat to face Connor.</p><p>“Yeah, me too,” Connor replied with a smile, “do you want to choose something next time?”</p><p>“Maybe just...no one chooses?” Evan suggested, his voice squeaking a little and vaguely reminding Connor of the kid he had a crush on back in middle school. He really hadn’t changed that much.</p><p>“Sure,” Connor replied.</p><p>“You know because then no one has any pressure to make a decision and it can just be something fun that we come up with and it doesn’t even really have to be that complex. Like maybe we could just hang out at Ellison again because that was really fun and I enjoyed that,” Evan said, his ramble picking up speed until he ran out of gas and stopped.</p><p>“Ellison huh?” Connor said with a smile, “we can decide a time later, yeah? Just text me sometimes and I’ll see what I can do, yah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan replied with a giggle on the end, before adding, “but I should go...you know...before my mom comes over here and embarrasses me.  Because she's gonna do that. ”</p><p>“Okay,” Connor said, “text you later?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Evan said, reaching for the door handle before saying in a cutesy voice, “bye bye Rocky.”</p><p>As Evan opened the car door, the sound caused his mom to turn around to face them, a wide smile spreading across her features. </p><p>Nurse Heidi.</p><p>
  <em>Blue and purple flowered scrubs.</em>
</p><p>From the hospital.</p><p>
  <em>Eyes ringed with dark lines.</em>
</p><p>After his first attempt.</p><p>
  <em>Smiling down at him.</em>
</p><p>He knew her.</p><p>
  <em>She promised they’d save his life.</em>
</p><p>She knew him.</p><p>
  <em>She had looked so scared.</em>
</p><p>Or, at least, at some point she did.</p><p>
  <em>Like she had seen a ghost.</em>
</p><p>Connor could only hope that it’d been enough years that she’d forgotten about him.</p><p>
  <em>Her hands shook as she peeled back the gauze on his arm.</em>
</p><p>Everyone did eventually.</p><p>
  <em>She looked like she wanted to cry.</em>
</p><p>He wasn’t particularly memorable.</p><p>
  <em>He’d upset her.</em>
</p><p>He could blend in.</p><p>
  <em>Why couldn’t the world just let him go?</em>
</p><p>But as a traumatized and severely depressed teen with thick bandages layered many times over around both of his lower arms, he stuck out like a sore thumb.</p><p>Connor forced himself to take a deep breath and count five things that he could spot around him. He couldn’t have a flashback now. It had to stop.</p><p>The air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, the spiderwebs of cracks on his windshield, the almost-empty gas gauge, the re-upholstered steering wheel under the palms of his hands, the feeling of Rocky’s fur against his cheek.</p><p>Shaking his head a little and leaning into Rocky’s fur, Connor smiled and remembered that he was fine. He was twenty-one and he was sitting in his car. He’d graduated high school. He was in third-year university. He was fine. Everything was fine. The past was in the past.</p><p>Letting out a big breath of air, Connor looked around a little and noticed - with an internal sigh of relief - that Evan hadn’t seen him struggle on the verge of a flashback. No one but Rocky ever needed to see that. Instead, Evan was walking towards his mother, the back of his neck turning a darker shade of red - visible underneath his impressive tan.</p><p>“Evan honey,” she exclaimed, walking towards them with a massive smile. Giving her son a quick hug, she continued her bees-line towards his car. Following behind, cheeks a very dark shade of red, Evan looked like he wanted to become one with the grass. Perhaps shape-shift into a tree. Honestly, Connor would rather that, then getting recognized by the nurse that saw him at the lowest point in his life.</p><p>“And you must be Connor,” she said, sticking her head in Connor’s open car window. She never did have a good sense of physical boundaries, Connor remembered with a huff. From the back seat, Rocky stood and stuck his head between the seat a little further, dragging his tongue up the side of Connor’s neck.</p><p>“Go lay back down boy,” Connor gently said, “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Well trained,” Nurse Heidi complimented when Rocky did exactly as Connor requested. Connor let himself crack a lopsided smile.</p><p>“Nice to meet you Ms. Hansen,” Connor said, watching a look he couldn’t quite read cross her features before adding, “but I really have to get going, I have to head to work.”</p><p>It wasn’t exactly the truth - Connor didn’t work on Sundays - but he needed to get home before Nurse Heidi recognized him. He needed to put gas in his car, Connor realized now too. Perhaps he’d stop on the way back to his apartment. Then he’d probably try for a power nap followed by binge-watching something as mind-numbing as possible before falling asleep at some ungodly hour in the morning. Bartending habits die hard, Connor realized.</p><p>“Well, I’d hate to keep you,” she said, backing away from the window before adding, “thanks for getting my Evan out and about. Have a safe drive.”</p>
<hr/><p>Connor probably broke a speed limit or two heading back towards his apartment. At the gas station, Connor went inside to pay and picked up a fresh pack of cigarettes and a milk bone for Rocky. Pulling off on the highway just past the gas station, he passed Rocky his bone and stepped out of his car to smoke. He never smoked with Rocky in the car. That wasn’t fair to him.</p><p>He didn’t smoke weed at all anymore, but every now and then a cigarette was exactly what the doctor ordered. And it wasn’t like he chain-smoked them all anymore, he’d stretch them out over a period of a couple of days and then when they were done, he usually didn’t get any more for a couple of months. It was a system and it worked. After seeing Nurse Heidi again, he needed it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so what do y'all think about Heidi getting a turn?  Opinions are welcome in the comments but honestly, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Only Fifteen - Heidi Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW - past suicide attempt(s) and past sh</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Evan had fallen out of that tree at Ellison over summer break before his senior year of high school, Heidi had been working in the ER when the ambulance had brought him in. He was lucky. Insanely lucky that the only things that had broken were his left arm and a couple of ribs. No other internal damage or lasting complications. One of the first nights he stayed over at the hospital, she could remember standing outside Evan’s room, looking through the glass wall, and wondering what had ever happened to that long-haired boy, about Evan’s age, that had been in the same horrible place as her son.</p><p>She had been working in the ER when they brought that boy in too. So skinny he looked sick, with sunken eyes, cheeks and cheekbones, arms sliced to shreds and stomach full of every type of pill one could find in your average household medicine cabinet. But when she looked down at him, the only thing Heidi could think was that he was probably about the same age as her Evan. That night, she decided she’d do anything in her power to make sure she never had to see Evan like this.</p><p>But things slipped between the spring that she’d met the young boy with the long hair and the summer that Evan threw himself out of a tree. She’d gotten busy with work, she’d enrolled in school for law and suddenly, Evan was seventeen years old and Heidi realized she barely saw her son anymore.</p><p>Once they set his arm and the physiatrist got the truth out of Evan that he hadn’t just fallen out of a tree, she faced one of two options. Send Evan to a live-in in-patient program for three months or look after him herself, making sure he attended four therapy sessions per week. It was his last year of high school and her severely anxious and depressed son needed normalcy, in Heidi’s opinion. So she went down to part-time hours and quit school. Evan was more important to her than law. Law could wait.</p><p>But as she spent day in and day out, watching the light slowly return to her little guy’s eyes, Heidi couldn’t help but wonder whatever had happened to that other boy.</p><p>Heidi had a picture of him, tucked into an album in her bedside table drawer, dedicated to her successes. The people that made it. Sometimes, she’d pull that book out and leaf through it after a hard day at work. On the days that they lost too many people.</p><p>He was in there. She remembered asking him to take a picture with her, explaining why she liked doing this type of thing. She remembered him shrugging and pushing himself to sit in the hospital bed he’d been calling his own over the three weeks he’d taken to recover before pulling a goofy face and smiling for the camera. He was in there, though Heidi bet for certain that she’d never see him again. She really hoped she’d never had to see him in the ER again.</p><p>It seemed like a blink of the eye and suddenly, Evan was a park warden, had turned twenty-one and was going on a date. She was pulling dead plants out of the flower beds in their front lawn when she heard the rumble of a car pull up. Turning to see Evan climbing out of the beat-up Toyota Corolla, she realized that he’d gotten a ride home. <em>That's nice</em>, she thought with a smile.</p><p>As far as she knew, Evan hadn’t ever really dated before. Though, thinking back, she realized that he may not have told her, seeing as he only told her about a week ago that he wasn’t straight. Maybe she should ask, Heidi considered, since now she knew, maybe there had been someone before.</p><p>She felt horrible about putting Evan in a position that he felt unable to tell her that he was going on a date with another guy. Sure, she hadn’t grown up in the most socially liberal household, but she had a lot of personal growth when she’d got her nursing degree. Honestly? She was just glad that Evan had finally told her. She was proud of him.</p><p>This guy, this Connor guy, didn’t seem all that bad, considering that they’d met at Ellison and had gone on a date to a museum and somewhere where they painted something. At least it wasn’t a bar or a club. After what happened in Orlando, she hoped that that wasn’t something either of them chose to be doing for date nights.</p><p>Approaching Evan for a hug, Heidi decided she wanted to go meet Connor in person. When she pulled away from Evan and started walking in the direction of the car, the driver started coming into focus.</p><p>He seemed tall and thin, his head getting pretty close to the roof of the car. Brown hair tied up loosely at the back of his head, gently leaning into the neck of a massive dog standing in the back and front seats simultaneously. Though, she noted that the car didn’t smell like weed or smoke when she stuck her head in the window - a fact she appreciated greatly.</p><p>With a quick breath, Heidi realized that, without a doubt in her mind, Connor, Evan’s date, potentially his boyfriend, was the boy she saved five years ago. It looked like he’d barely aged a day. Hair still long though brushed and tied back, what she noticed first was that he was certainly a healthy weight now. Which was good. He looked a little tired and was wearing a skin-tight grey long-sleeved shirt, which, considering the number of stitches he’d gotten that night, made sense. His ears, which were uncovered, were now adorned with a handful of piercings, and when he shifted just the right way, she thought she caught a glimpse of the edge of a tattoo under the collar of his shirt, but she couldn’t tell for sure.</p><p>“And you must be Connor,” she said looking towards what would have once been a back row of seats, but now a massive doggy-bed.</p><p>Connor nodded with a small smile, lips pulled tight over his teeth.</p><p>She was making him nervous, Heidi realized when the massive dog proceeded to turn his head and lick a stripe up the side of Connor’s neck. When the dog turned his head, she noticed the medical alert tag attached to his collar. He was a service dog.</p><p>“Go lay back down boy,” Connor gently said to the dog, “I’m fine.”</p><p>Instantly, the huge animal obeyed and returned to his luxurious crash pad in the back seat. He didn’t exactly look like he was relaxed - the dog, not Connor - still watching her like he wasn’t quite certain what her intentions were.</p><p>“Well trained,” Heidi observed, tearing her eyes from the dog back to Connor, who's smile briefly uncovered his teeth, thought it disappeared quite quickly.</p><p>“Nice to meet you Ms. Hansen,” Connor said, “but I really have to get going, I have to head to work.”</p><p>“Well, I’d hate to keep you,” she said, backing away from the window before adding, “thanks for getting my Evan out and about. Have a safe drive.”</p>
<hr/><p>That night, she sat down on her bed and pulled out the photo album. Flipping through page after page of saves, she finally came across the deathly thin boy with the goofy smile and thumbs up. He really hadn’t changed that much, Heidi realized as she looked over the picture again. <em>Connor Murphy, 15</em>, her handwritten note under the picture read.</p><p>Fuck, he’d only been 15 at the time. Logically, she knew that, but to her, he always seemed so much older than that. Like he’d just skipped straight to being an adult, all in one go.</p><p>She remembered changing the bandages on his arms for the last time, the morning before they sent him home. How she’d sat next to him on the hospital bed and showed him how to wrap them up by himself. How to clean the stitches one-handed. How to make sure he’d done it tight enough but not too tight. She remembered all the times before that; before they’d put him on the feeding tube, that she’d been so concerned about hurting him. That she’d held his battered and destroyed arms and realized that he was quite literally skin and bone.</p><p>She remembered him asking in a voice much softer and weaker than the one she’d heard at his car, if the scars would ever go away. If these scars would disappear or fade like some of the others. It had hurt to hear that, to know that, once upon a time, there had been more scars littering his skin than the ones she could currently see. But she couldn’t lie. These scars would likely be with him for the rest of his life.</p><p>“Oh,” he’d replied, looking down at his unwrapped arms with a look that Heidi couldn’t read.</p><p>“Some people get tattoos that cover them up,” Heidi had added, squeezing some of the scar balms out of the tube and tracing it over his left forearm.</p><p>“Cool,” Connor had said before going quiet. Like he was deep in thought.</p><p>After - maybe - seeing the inked lines under the collar of his shirt, she wondered if he had tattoos on his arms too.</p><p>Looking back down at the photo, Heidi wondered if Connor had recognized her today. She didn’t think she’d seen any flashes of recognition pass behind his eyes, but she may have missed something while being so focused on Connor’s massive service dog. There had certainly been more publicity about service animals in the media lately, and so she had decided to educate herself about them a little better. Had even considered getting one for Evan before seeing just how expensive they could be.</p><p>But it was good that he had someone by his side at all times, considering how many times she’d been called to his room in the hospital when his heart rate would spike during a panic attack. There had been so many of those, she could remember, running through the halls of the ICU in the middle of the night, hoping that it was just another panic attack and that he hadn’t found a way to overdose on one of his pain meds.</p><p>As she closed the photo album and then the drawer that it sat in, Heidi wondered what she should tell Evan, if she told him. Or Connor, for that matter, if he came over to their house again. Should she tell Evan that she knew him from the hospital? Legally, that’d probably not be the greatest course of action, but she wanted Evan to be prepared, just in case.</p><p>But, maybe it was something that Evan needed to learn for himself. Build trust between himself and Connor. Learn to trust someone else on this planet other than her. She bet they didn’t know it yet, but she knew they had a lot more in common than meets the eye.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Adult Sleepover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Its really late,” Evan said as they watched the sun setting behind the last hill and casting eerie shadows across the field that they were sitting amongst. They’d found supper at a food truck that had decided to set-up shop in the parking lot at Ellison and had brought it up to the top of a hill. The grass was crunchy and pretty brown looking as the first day of October was approaching, but they’d still managed to stay out till the sun was about to set.</p><p>Connor hadn’t expected to stay out this long, but he didn’t regret a single moment of it at all. He loved Evan’s company, the easy way that they could talk with each other and just enjoy each other's presence without feeling awkward or uncomfortable. Connor loved it. He loved it a lot. He was starting to think he might even dare to apply that word to Evan too.</p><p>He didn’t think he’d fallen in love before. Back when he’d been with Miguel, he’d assumed that was what falling in love felt like, but now, he was starting to realize that maybe this was real. Because it felt different. Not bad, but not like anything he’d ever felt before. The enormity of emotions that he felt crossing through his mind at any given time should have been something to bring up with his therapist. Just to understand them better.</p><p>Except for the fact that the man who he’d been talking with for the past three years had retired mid-September. And yet, without the weekly visits and discussions, Connor felt fine. Maybe he was fixed. He dared to consider that that was the case. Maybe his brain had just grown out of it. He really didn’t think that was possible. Maybe he was a freak of nature. It would certainly explain some things. Yeah, he should probably work on finding a new therapist, but Connor also just wanted to see how long he could go without. Less dependence on another person. He already had Rocky. That was plenty.</p><p>“Jeez, I didn’t even realize,” Connor agreed, stretching his arms above his head and feeling the delicious crack of his back and shoulder blades. The line of shadow was inching closer towards them, turning the yellow field more brown, and then eventually black.</p><p>“Should probably head home,” Evan said, pushing himself to his feet before extending an arm out for Connor to grab.</p><p>“You could stay over with me,” Connor said quickly before his brain even really processed what he’d said, before quickly adding, “but, you know, no pressure or anything, I know you have to work tomorrow morning and we’ve never really talked about any of this beforehand.”</p><p>“If you really don’t mind?” Evan asked as they started walking down the hill, Rocky making a few low snuffling noises as he followed behind, off his leash.</p><p>“No, I’m serious dude, if you wanna crash at my place tonight, I could totally give you a ride here tomorrow before I head to school. No big deal,” Connor said and smiled to himself.</p><p><em>Hello impulsive Connor</em>, he thought. He’d honestly wondered where that dude had gone, but then sometimes those good old-fashioned impulsive decisions made themselves and Connor was reminded that that part of him was never gone.</p><p>“Okay,” Evan said, “Yes, please. Thank you. Tons, I mean it.”</p><p>“If you really don’t want to, I can just drive you home?” Connor said, feeling the second-guessing nature of his impulsiveness getting the best of him. He just didn’t want Evan to feel pressured.</p><p>“It's okay,” Evan said, grabbing the hand not holding onto Rocky’s rolled up leash with his own and holding on tight, “I promise, I want to have a sleepover with you.”</p><p>“Oh my god you’re ridiculous,” Connor said with a grin, “You say that like we’re seven or something.”</p><p>“Hey, who says that adults can’t have sleepovers anymore?” Evan said with a laugh as Connor dug into the pocket of his tight jeans for his car keys.</p><p>“I have a set of sleeping bags?” Connor said, continuing the joking, “We could set up camp on the floor.”</p><p>Evan snorted a laugh and said, “you know, I never actually did that as a kid. Is that what sleepovers are actually like?”</p><p>“Sure. But with some spin the bottle on top,” Connor teased as he unlocked the car doors and started loading Rocky into his backseat. Evan climbed into the passenger seat as Connor closed Rocky’s door and slid into his own seat.</p><p>“Spin the bottle huh?” Evan replied as Connor coaxed the engine alive, “Doesn’t that only work when there's more than one person?”</p><p>“Yeah, unless your intent is to just make out with someone. Then two people spin the bottle could be arranged,” Connor said as they headed out onto the highway and back towards his apartment.</p>
<hr/><p>Connor suddenly felt very self-conscious about his apartment as he unlocked the door and let Evan inside. He’d been living in it for just over three years and yet it looked like he’d just moved in. There were un-opened packing boxes stacked into corners, his bed still had no frame and was sitting directly on the floor, his television and Xbox was sitting on Rubbermaid boxed filled with old stuff from his room at his parent's house and the “coffee table” was just another two packing boxes with old books shoved together.</p><p>He wasn’t entirely sure why his apartment still looked how it did, because, through what he could only imagine as Evan’s eyes, it looked like a dump. A shit hole. A pigsty. Whatever you wanted to label it as it really didn’t seem like the kind of place that one would want to live in for an extended period of time. The only saving grace was that Connor had changed his bedsheets just a couple of days ago and had actually made his bed that morning. Gave the whole place at least a little bit of class.</p><p>“Sorry for the...mess,” Connor said as he threw his keys into the bowl by the door and took Rocky’s leash and collar off. Hanging the fabric pieces on their hook, he watched as Rocky took off into their apartment, likely to go find his bed and get to sleep. It’d been a long day.</p><p>“It's okay,” Evan said, “Its very you….But not like, in a bad way or anything. Its just, I think that lots of the things in here are very you regardless of how messy you think it is...you know?”</p><p>“Okay,” Connor said, kicking off his running shoes and watching Evan do the same, “You wanna shower or something? I can find you a change of clothes.”</p><p>“Sure, if it's okay with you,” Evan said, his features a little pink. A small thought in the back of Connor’s head wondered how far down his chest that colouring continued. Not right now, Connor told himself. Evan had to get to work tomorrow morning, and he hadn’t invited him over just to...get into his pants - as crude as that sounded.</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Connor said, motioning towards his bedroom, “come on.”</p><p>Digging through his drawers to find something that he thought might fit Evan, he managed to pull out a shirt from a barbeque that he’d worked at last summer with Spillways. The shirt fit Connor a little big, so he thought it’d probably fit Evan perfectly. Pants would probably be a little more difficult, so he just pulled out a pair of soft athletic shorts and hoped that Evan didn’t get cold easily at night.</p><p>“Here you go,” Connor said, passing over the extra towel he’d pulled out of one of his boxes and the pile of clothes, “The shower is pretty standard I think, but if you need help or something, just shout, yeah?”</p><p>“Thanks, Connor,” Evan said, leaning a little closer and pressing a soft kiss to Connor’s cheek before turning and walking towards the small bathroom.</p><p>Heart pounding, head-spinning, Connor sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall. Evan had kissed him. Sure, it was just a soft kiss on the cheek, but after almost an entire month of dating, Connor realized that that was their first kiss. But, didn’t the first kiss have to be on the lips? He thought so, but he wasn’t all that sure upon further thought.</p><p>His first kiss had been sometime back in the second grade with some girl that he could barely even remember now. That night, he’d gone home and told his parents that he was never going to kiss a girl again. He’d gotten grounded that night too. With Miguel, his first kiss had been accompanied by the rest of the...deal. It was memorable, but not really, in the grand scheme of things.</p><p>“Connor, all good?” Evan’s voice said into the silence of his apartment. Blinking a couple of times, he looked over at Evan, his hair and beard now wet and changed into the clothes that Connor had given him. Had he really been zoned out for that long?</p><p>“Yeah, all good,” Connor said, standing and grabbing the sleeping clothes he’d chosen for that night. Usually, he just slept in underwear, but given that Evan was staying over, he’d chosen a shirt and a pair of sweatpants so it wasn’t too awkward.</p><p>“Okay, if you’re sure,” Evan said, tossing his day-clothes onto the chair that he’d draped his jacket over before he got in the shower.</p><p>“Did you seriously want to sleep in sleeping bags tonight? I’m sure I can find mine somewhere,” Connor said, “or we could both just sleep on my bed, I mean, it's not like its not big enough for the both of us.”</p><p>“Honestly? I was mostly joking about the sleepover thing. Plus, won’t sleep on the floor mess up our backs a little?”</p><p>“Yeah, probably,” Connor said, “I’m gonna go change, then we can sleep. On the bed.”</p><p>Shutting the door to the bathroom, Connor leaned down on the countertop and splashed some cold water from the sink on his face. He had to get a hold of himself before he walked back out there and shared a bed with the one person from high school that he’d had a crush on for as long as he could remember. Because Evan deserved to get a good sleep and, honestly, Connor just didn’t want to ruin this really good thing that he’d managed to get a hold of.</p><p>Changing and grabbing his clothes again - after electing to not take a shower because it could wait until tomorrow - Connor headed back out to his bedroom where Evan was perched on the side of his bed on his phone. Looking towards him, Connor realized he could get used to this. Going to sleep laying next to someone. It was nice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but its here!  Finally!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Two Person Spin The Bottle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- implied/referenced sexual content<br/>- referenced SH scars</p><p>Evan definitely does a little bit of rumination in this chapter, so if you don't want to read it, I'll throw a tl;dr for the chapter down in the End Notes and you can skip reading this one if you want.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evan watched as Connor crawled up his bed and laid down on the bed with his hands pillowed under his head. As attractive as that may have been, what really made Evan’s eyes widen was the tattoos that he could see. Then, he realized that he’d never actually seen Connor wearing anything else other than loose-fitting long-sleeved shirts.</p><p>In a white, tight-fitting tank top, he could see that he had sleeves of ink from his shoulders to his wrists. And it looked good. Really good. Evan usually wasn’t all that fond of guys with tattoos - or tattoos in general - but on Connor, he was seriously willing to make an exception because they really added to his whole physique.</p><p>“Your tattoos look...nice,” Evan said with a smile, “do they feel different?”</p><p>“I don’t think so - but you can feel for yourself,” Connor said, his voice wavering a little like he wasn’t sure what Evan was thinking. Like he was nervous about Evan seeing his tattoos for the first time.</p><p>Reaching out, Evan gently ran his fingertips over the flowers, vines, leaves, feathers and landscapes that inked the muscles of Connor’s arms. While he was looking at the tattoos, Evan couldn’t help but feel soft indents and raised lines against Connor’s skin as he noticed the thick outlines of what he thought were eagle feathers.</p><p>He didn’t want to think too much about the lines that he could feel under the ink, but Evan wondered if they were in any way similar to the ones he had covering his own legs - thankfully hidden beneath the slightly-too-long shorts that he’d borrowed from Connor. He knew that he and Connor had things in common, but he wondered if this was just another on their long list they were starting to compile.</p><p>He hoped that he was just imagining what he could feel because he hoped that Connor never had to feel as horrible about himself as Evan had felt that summer before grade twelve. Because no one deserved to feel that way. At the same time, Evan knew that he hadn’t been feeling things. He wondered - not for the first time - if that was why Connor left for boarding school. Of course, he’d never ask unless Connor told him first, but he still thought about it. Probably more than normal.</p><p>As he reached Connor’s wrist, Evan traced his fingers across the evergreen trees inked against a background of a lake. In black, grey and white, he marvelled at the intricacy of the design. But as he traced his thumb across the lake, he felt Connor flinch and pull back a little before closing his eyes, relaxing, and opening them again.</p><p>“Its so beautiful,” Evan said, trying but failing to contain the wonder in his voice. If he thought that Connor was beautiful before he saw the tattoos, it was only amplified tenfold now.</p><p>“I...um...thanks,” Connor said with a smile as he untucked his right arm from under himself and rolled onto his back. Now, Evan could see the other side as well. Which, while similar, was still different and beautiful in its own way. Evan wondered if he touched that warm skin if he would feel the lines as well.</p><p>“You’re really beautiful,” Evan said as he reached out and ran his hand down Connor’s right arm, taking in the heat and the physical contact more than looking at the actual designs this time.</p><p>“Um...thanks?” Connor said, his smiling waning a little as he pushed the hair that had fallen out of his bun and away from his face, “I...um...can I kiss you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan said, a soft giggle escaping him that just couldn’t be helped.</p><p>Sure, they both had to be up early the next morning, but right now, Evan didn’t think he could sleep if he tried. Or without another shower. A very cold shower.</p>
<hr/><p>Evan woke up the next morning, not to the sound of the alarm but to the sudden disappearance of heat from behind him. Blinking his eyes open, Evan looked behind him to see that Connor had rolled away from him in his sleep.</p><p>Connor.</p><p>Oh yeah. He’d slept over.</p><p>Looking up at the ceiling with a smile, Evan realized felt safe.</p><p>Admittedly, Evan had never been much of a cuddler. And not because he didn’t want to be, but because he’d never had the opportunity. His mother had been too busy when he was a child, and when he’d dated Jared, they’d only ever spent about three weekends together over the span of a year. And it wasn’t that he hadn’t felt safe with Jared, because he did, but never safe enough to be entirely open with him. But wrapped in Connor’s arms, he felt safe. Safer than he’d felt in years.</p><p>Technically, he wasn’t a virgin anymore either, but really, if he’d learned anything from Alana’s intellectual ramblings, was that ‘virginity’ was an outdated and archaic concept anyways. They were two fully consenting adults that had a really good time and that was what mattered.</p><p>Rolling his head towards the alarm that Connor had set the previous evening, he realized he’d only gotten five hours of sleep. Five hours wasn’t a lot, but maybe Evan could splurge for coffee later. With only a half an hour left before the alarm was set to go off, Evan looked over at Connor.</p><p>With his eyes closed and arms curled up into his chest, he looked so much younger than Evan knew he was. His hair still messed in almost every direction, looked soft and touchable. Evan wanted to reach out and touch it, even though he knew it could possibly wake him up. But he kept his arms as his sides and looked at the tattoos that he could see again.</p><p>They were marvellous, but Evan had decided that he definitely wasn’t feeling things last night. But he didn’t know how to bring it up with him. He didn’t know how Connor would react. Because he remembered how Jared had reacted the one time that he’d seen him without his pants on - before they'd really started healing. Jared had brought it up and Evan had freaked out. Though, Evan was good at freaking out. But, at the same time, it seemed like Connor was good at it too.</p><p>Maybe he could just...ask. It wouldn’t hurt, and yet at the same time, it really could. He didn’t want to scare Connor off. It was a possibility and yet it wasn’t one that he was willing to risk. Last night, Evan realized that there were certain benefits to not only turning off the vast majority of the lights in the apartment but also using that horrible-smelling scar-cream that his mother had bought for him. The conversation was simply not brought up because, unless you knew what you were looking for, you could barely see or feel the lines on his legs.</p><p>“Mmmm wha’ time s’it,” he heard Connor’s voice croak with a soft growl.</p><p>Turning over towards Connor, Evan looked into his eyes, one blue and one half-brown, he couldn’t believe that he’d never noticed the beautiful colourings before.</p><p>“4:08,” Evan reported as he felt Connor’s arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer.</p><p>“You’re warm,” Connor muttered and he felt long, thin hands smoothing through Evan’s curls. It made him smile. He liked it when Connor ran his hands through his hair.  </p><p>“You are too,” Evan said, leaning over his shoulder and kissing Connor before asking, “are you feeling okay?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Connor muttered, “Kinda sore...but good sore, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan agreed, “as long as it's only the good kind.”</p><p>“Maybe we could shower before we leave,” Connor suggested, “Showers make everything feel better.”</p><p>“Right now?” Evan asked as he relaxed back into Connor’s arms.</p><p>“Probably,” Connor said, “we have to get moving if we want to get out of here in time.”</p><p>“Okay,” Evan agreed as they both started pushing themselves to sitting on Connor’s bed.</p>
<hr/><p>As he changed into his spare uniform in the staff locker room at Ellison, Evan smiled to himself as he gradually covered up the marks and blemishes that Connor had made on his skin last night with thick beige fabric. It was like putting on a second skin, the uniform soft and well worn in.</p><p>He offered to take the first patrol as soon as Evan managed to get his hands on a radio, which he was instantly taken up on. Grabbing the keys to the park buggy - since he technically wasn’t allowed to drive any of the trucks - Evan started off on his way around Ellison, unlocking the gates and porta potty doors, letting the first early morning walkers into the greenery.</p><p>Around eight, he could feel his phone - his personal phone - buzzing against his leg. Looking around to make sure that there was no one that needed his assistance, Evan pulled it out of the pocket of his pants.<em> Heidi Hansen.</em> He raised his eyebrows at the fact that his mother was calling him at work but accepted the call anyway.</p><p>“Hey mom,” Evan said, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder so that he could balance a clipboard on his lap and make some opening-shift notes at the same time.</p><p>“Evan, thank god,” she said, her voice frantic, “where were you last night?”</p><p>“I slept over at Connor’s, why?” he asked, checking off a couple of boxes on his piece of paper.</p><p>“Oh thank god,” Heidi said, breathing out as she said it, before continuing with “Evan, you can’t just not come home at night without telling me, I was worried sick!”</p><p>“But weren’t you at work last night?” Evan asked. That was the main reason that he’d not phoned or texted her. It wasn’t like it mattered since she wasn’t going to be there anyway.</p><p>“That doesn’t matter Evan,” Heidi said, “You know how scared I was when your bed was empty when I got home this morning. Look, I know you’re twenty-one now...but there is a reason I ask you to send me just a quick text, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan said, feeling guilty. He knew what his mom meant. When he’d gone to Ellison in the summer before grade 12, fully expecting not to go home again, he realized that he’d terrified his mother, “I get it mom. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Its okay darling, I’m just glad to hear you’re okay,” she replied, “but did you have a good time with Connor?”</p><p>“Yeah...it was...a really great time,” Evan said, smiling to himself.  It was a really great time.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>----TL;DR----<br/>Evan gets a good look at Connor's tattoos, feels the SH scars underneath.  They have 'a good night'.  The next morning, Evan goes to work and Heidi phones him, very concerned, that he didn't come home last night.  They talk and get things straightened out (a similar but slightly different version to that argument they get into in the musical just before Good For You).  </p><p>----NOTES----<br/>1) After writing the last chapter, I just jumped straight into writing this one.  Hopefully, this makes up for disappearing for a week and a half.  </p><p>2) Tag(s) have been updated and warning has been raised from a T to an M.  In the future I may write a "stand-alone" addition to this chapter, but it'll be most certainly "E" rated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Feeling Something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor wanted to go home, collapse onto his bed and sleep for a couple of weeks. He’d just finished writing his ENGL 412 midterm and while Rocky had been an amazing calming presence, he just felt the stress and remnants of last night’s midnight panic attack in every bone in his body. It'd only been a couple of weeks without his therapist and yet he was already falling apart.</p><p>He didn’t like the feelings of recklessness that only made themselves known on occasion. Like this. When nothing was going right in his life and he had no way of visualizing his future. Just going through the motions. It scared Connor, if he thought about it too long though, so he tried to stay busy enough to not have to think. Which was one of the many reasons he was so tired.</p><p>Then his parents called. Last night, of all nights, before one of his most important midterms. Wondering if he was planning on coming home to celebrate his sister’s birthday with them. Logically, Connor knew it was Zoe’s twenty-first birthday this year, it was hard to forget, but he didn’t realize that it was coming up so soon already.</p><p>Zoe already knew that he wasn’t coming home to celebrate with them and had offered to take her to breakfast on the day after her birthday. When she’d accepted, Connor realized that there was no reason for him to go home. It was his sister that needed to be celebrated, not his parents.</p><p>There was a reason he hadn’t talked to his parents or moved back in with them once he graduated from Hanover. Because on the night before he left, it’d been made very clear that unless he became a different person, they wanted nothing to do with him. Sure, he’d gotten off hard drugs and weed since he graduated but that does mean that anything else changed. Meaning, he is still gay, still wears whatever he feels like and, well, his tattoos would drive them crazy. He already has enough crazy in his life.</p><p>Walking out of the lecture theatre while tugging his hat over his head, Rocky trailing at his side, Connor badly wanted a cigarette. There was a reason he didn’t keep them on hand anymore. Or else he’d smoke the whole pack and then go get another and do it again. Still, the urge was there.</p><p>“Connor,” he heard someone call. But there could have been a half dozen other Connor’s flooding out of the lecture theatre, so he didn’t turn around. Curling Rocky’s soft leash around his hand one extra time, he continued towards the parking lot, looking forward to going home and sleeping until he had to go to work that night.</p><p>“Murphy,” the same voice called, so he turned around, just in case, and saw Evan rushing towards him.</p><p>“Evan,” Connor exclaimed once Evan was close enough to not have to yell and draw more attention to himself than needed, "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"Wanted to see you again," Evan replied.</p><p>"Missed me?" Connor asked, feeling a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>"Maybe," Evan said.</p><p>"Obviously missed me enough to come all the way here from Ellison," Connor pointed out.</p><p>"The 89 bus runs straight here, it wasn't that hard, I promise," Evan said before adding, "But you survived your midterm - can I offer you coffee?”</p><p>“My saviour,” Connor said, ditching all plans to sleep in favour of caffeine and the opportunity to hang out with Evan some more.</p><p>“Dunkin?” Evan asked as they altered course towards the largest food court on campus.</p><p>“Absolutely,” Connor said, following Evan through the throngs as equally sleep-deprived students, Rocky doing his absolute best and not being distracted by anything. Not even the people who inevitably cooed, ‘cute doggy’ at him.</p><p>“You know, in Canada, their version of Dunkin is called Tims,” Evan said once they got inside the food court building.</p><p>“Tims,” Connor said to himself, laughing internally because, of course, Evan knew that fact.</p><p>“Tim Hortons, I guess,” Evan continued as they got in line, “named after a real dude too.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Connor replied with a smile as he bumped into Evan’s arm gently.</p><p>Then, he felt Evan’s fingers, the calluses from the park rough against his own palm, lacing themselves between his own. Pulling Connor’s hand up a little between them, Evan asked, “Is this okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he replied in a breath of air, wondering briefly whatever had happened to the kid in high school that was so damn socially anxious that you could look at him the wrong way and he looked like he was going to burst into tears. It wasn’t like that was healthy, so Connor was very glad Evan didn’t seem to be affected in the same way anymore, but nonetheless, he wondered where that version had gone.</p><p>Which was hypocritical of Connor to even think, he realized, because he never wanted to see his own high school self again. Not to the full extent anyways, because some little pieces showed up now and then. And even that scared him. It wasn’t his place to ask.</p><p>But there was one thing on his mind, since that night that Evan had stayed over at his apartment. He hadn’t gotten a good look because they were otherwise rather occupied, but he thought that when he’d ran his hands over Evan’s thighs, he could feel...something. It was hard to tell, as the thick hair that he had covering his head, face and chest seemed to not be limited to those areas, but he could have sworn he felt small lines. Then, when they’d showered together the next morning, the hairs on Evan’s legs darkened and made it hard for him to tell without being a weirdo.</p><p>It wasn’t something he could just ask about though. Because that meant that he would have to imply that he knew what he was looking or feeling for. That he knew how skin that had been hacked apart over years of declining mental health felt under his fingers. That he had spent many sleepless nights looking at his own arms, wondering how on earth someone could love him if they really knew what he’d tried to do to himself. What he had done to himself. How broken he was. How much time, money and effort he’d put into getting his tattoos, just so he could feel better about himself.</p>
<hr/><p>It wasn’t too cold outside yet, so when Evan suggested that they take their coffee out to the quad, Connor quickly agreed. Sitting inside after having sat inside to write an exam for three hours just seemed like way too much for him.</p><p>They found a spot on the grass and Rocky curled up against Connor’s side, the side that Evan wasn’t leaning against. It felt nice, having Evan’s hand nestled into his. Evan’s hands always seemed to be warm - well, actually, all of him always seemed to be warm - but maybe that was just the benefits of being under six feet tall. The second he cracked six feet in the ninth grade, Connor didn’t think that he’d once had good circulation. Maybe it helped if he didn’t...well...you know.</p><p>“Your hands are nice,” Evan said, lifting up the hand between them and turning it back and forth.</p><p>“Yours are too,” Connor replied, trying to shift the focus away from Evan complimenting him.</p><p>“You goof, I’m trying to compliment you,” Evan said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Connor’s cheek.</p><p>“C’mon man,” Connor said jokingly, “if you’re going to kiss me in public, you better do it properly.”</p><p>“An exhibitionist at heart?” Evan replied and when Connor shrugged, Evan kissed him properly.</p><p>“Happy?” Evan asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor replied with a laugh. He knew he was probably smiling like an idiot, but really, he didn’t care. Taking his last sip of coffee, he laid back, letting the dry and dead grass crackle underneath him.</p><p>After laying together, just looking at the clouds and making mindless conversation about whatever came to mind, Connor heard Evan quickly blurt, “do you want to be my boyfriend?”</p><p>Not sitting up, because Connor figured it’d freak Evan out a little more than needed, he replied, “I mean, I’d like it if we were.”</p><p>“Me too,” Evan muttered, dragging his thumb over Connor’s knuckles before asking, “boyfriends?”</p><p>“Boyfriends,” Connor replied, sitting up a little to press a chaste kiss to Evan’s lips, “I think you’re amazing Evan.”</p><p>“I think you’re pretty awesome too,” Evan replied.</p><p>“Shut up,” Connor said jokingly, “I was trying to compliment you.”</p><p>“I’m glad you said yes,” Evan said once they both laid back down in the grass again.</p><p>“Me too,” Connor agreed.</p><p>“You look tired,” Evan said.</p><p>“Well, I mean, I was going to go home and sleep before you offered coffee,” Connor confessed, “are you up to anything this afternoon?”</p><p>“No,” Evan said, “why?”</p><p>“Want to come back to my place?” Connor asked, “I can drop you at home before I go to work?”</p><p>“Really?” Evan asked, “You sure you don’t mind?”</p><p>“Nope,” Connor said, “In fact, I’d love it.”</p><p>“Alright then,” Evan said, getting to his feet quicker than Connor thought was humanly possible. Reaching his hand out and pulling Connor up, they threw out their coffee cups and headed towards the parking lot.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think the next chapter is definitely going to be a little bit of a heavy one again, so I wanted to end this one on a happy note : ) !</p><p>Any other Canadians out there?  Tims is pretty great, right?  I'm not just crazy, right?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. What I Tried To Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TWs:<br/>- meds discussion<br/>- past suicide attempt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Laying down next to Connor, Evan watched as his chest rose and fell from where it was partially hidden underneath his covers.</p><p>Once they’d gotten back to Connor’s apartment, he’d convinced Connor to take a shower - to wash his hair that was probably a fire hazard - then had also managed to convince him to just lay down in bed and see what would happen. It felt a little like convincing one of his baby cousins to have a nap, that one time that they’d stayed over with him and his mom.</p><p>The second he pulled the covers up over the two of them, he’d watched Connor’s eyes slip shut and then he was out like a light. If he didn’t look so horrible, Evan would have found it funny. But this Connor, this midterm season Connor, reminded him a little bit too much of the Connor who he was terrified of lynching him back in the tenth grade. That and Rocky didn’t seem to want to leave his side. Thankfully, once Connor fell asleep, the massive brown creature had climbed off the bed and made himself at home on the large dog bed in the corner instead, likely convinced that Connor was fine for the time being.</p><p>Evan didn’t like that Connor was obviously suffering. Why he was suffering, Evan wasn’t entirely sure, but he had a couple of guesses. And he was almost entirely sure that they were not solely related to the fact that Connor had just written a half-dozen midterms over the span of a week, though it was probably a contributing factor.</p><p>When they’d walked into the apartment, Connor halfheartedly throwing his keys into the bowl by the door like he’d done last time, Evan noticed a whiteboard attached to the side of the fridge. He didn’t think he’d seen it last time he was here, but, admittedly, he had been a little preoccupied. Though this time, as Connor had reached down to unlace his boots, Evan got a good look at it.</p><p>The whiteboard looked like it had been a medication tracker at some point. Evan knew what those looked like off by heart by now. But at some point, it looked like someone had not only attempted to put their hand through it, but also had wiped off a massive streak through the middle. Judging based on the faint bruises across Connor’s left knuckles that he’d seen when they were holding hands earlier, he bet that Connor had been the one to try to put his hand through the whiteboard.</p><p>There was something going on in Connor’s head, there was no doubt about it. As much as Evan didn’t want to snoop, he was worried. Something just seemed a little off about Connor lately. Sure, they’d only really been dating for just over a month, but he was worried. Boyfriends or not, Evan didn’t want something to happen to Connor.</p><p>Looking back over his shoulder at his sleeping beauty, Evan gently climbed out of Connor’s bed and not before making sure that he hadn’t woken, crept out into the kitchen. Heading towards the medicine tracker, he saw that there were the remains of six or seven drug names listed. From what he understood, just over half of them were mood stabilizers. The other ones Evan was well acquainted with. Panic and anxiety meds that he was either on or had tried during his bounce throughout the mental health system.</p><p>It concerned Evan but wasn’t going to scare him off. Connor may have a bipolar or Cluster B disorder, but that didn’t mean that he was a bad person. Not at all. Just something that he knew he would have to be understanding of.</p><p>Looking around a little further, he noticed a half-eaten banana resting amongst some other fruit in a bowl on the counter. But, the banana was probably not even edible anymore, so Evan picked it up and went in search of a garbage can. Opening the door under the sink, Evan saw a garbage can. Throwing the banana in disturbed some of the paper towels in the can and exposed a half-dozen orange pill bottles.</p><p>Now, Evan knew that he was walking on thin ice, snooping around like this. Connor could wake up at any moment and yell at him. Kick him out. Break up with him. And honestly, Evan thought that he’d probably deserve it. But he’d risk all of that to make sure that Connor wasn’t going to do something moronic the second that Evan went home.</p><p>So, Evan pushed down his germaphobic tendencies and dug out the pill canister on the top of the pile. Connor had blacked out his personal information with sharpie, it looked like, but there was at least three weeks worth of medication still left in the bottle. Topiramate. If Evan remembered correctly, it was used most commonly to help manage borderline personality disorder.</p><p>Then he heard a muffled cry from Connor’s bedroom. Throwing the pills into the sink - because the bottles were a little gross from being in the garbage can - Evan rushed back to Connor’s room. Looking in, he noticed that Rocky was already in bed with him, licking his face, as two thin arms wrapped around his back, fingers twisting into the thick fur and holding on for dear life. From where he was standing, Evan could hear Connor’s muffled hiccuping sobs and could feel his heart breaking a little.</p><p>Approaching the bed, Evan whispered out a soft little, “Connor?”</p><p>Instead, all he could hear was a sniffle, followed by more harsh and ragged breaths into Rocky’s fur. He was having a panic attack. Scrambling back once his brain connected the dots, Evan rushed back into the kitchen. Surely there must be some rescue medication in the collection in the garbage. Looking at all the labels, he found one labelled with Clonazepam, followed by the doctor’s note that said to take it before or during a panic attack.</p><p>Dumping out one of the little orange pills into his hand Evan rushed back into Connor’s room. Approaching the bed again, he noticed that Connor’s shoulders and back were heaving as Rocky was desperately licking his face and neck. Not only was Connor freaked out, but now, so was Rocky.</p><p>“Connor,” Evan said sternly but calmly, trying to get through to him without scaring him, “You need to take this.”</p><p>Thankfully, Connor released one of his hands from Rocky’s fur and accepted the medication that he had been given. Dry swallowing the small pill, Evan climbed onto the bed and let Connor wrap an arm around his torso until his breathing finally started to even out.</p><p>It took another fifteen minutes before Connor pulled his face out of Rocky’s fur, but when he did, he looked up at Evan with a look painted across his face that Connor could only compare to shame.</p><p>“Hey,” Evan said, smoothing Connor’s hair away from his face, “feeling any better?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” Connor admitted.</p><p>Evan swallowed, hoping he was about to make the right decision, before saying, “How about you get yourself cleaned up, but I want to talk to you about something, okay?”</p><p>Then, he climbed off Connor’s bed and headed out into the kitchen and living room area to wait and give him some privacy to get composed.</p>
<hr/><p>Evan had fished all seven pill bottles out of the garbage can and cleaned them off by the time that Connor had composed himself and walked out of his room, Rocky at his heels. When he saw what Evan had lined up on the counter, next to his destroyed meds chart, Evan watched as Connor’s face dropped. Like he knew exactly what he had done wrong.</p><p>“I gave you some of your own clonazepam,” Evan said, pushing the half-empty bottle across the counter when Connor sat down at one of the stools, “just so you know.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Connor replied, looking down at the orange bottle with a weird look on his face.</p><p>“I’m not breaking up with you Connor,” Evan said, “If that's what you’re worried about.”</p><p>“You should,” Connor muttered, “now that you know what kind of monster I am, you should.”</p><p>“You’re not a monster Connor. Just because your brain is wired a little differently than everyone else’s doesn’t make you a monster,” Evan replied, “I just want to know why you stopped taking your meds. You can’t just go cold turkey, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Connor said, “Jesus fucking Christ I know.”</p><p>“So help me understand. What’s going on inside of your head,” Evan said, “I want to help you, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what's wrong.”</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong,” Connor argued.</p><p>“So you threw out all your meds?” Evan said, “I refuse to believe that. You’re a smart guy Connor, you wouldn’t do that.”</p><p>“I felt fine. So I stopped. I didn’t think I needed them. So I stopped,” Connor said, “You must think I’m a massive fucking idiot. I’m bipolar, got BPD, throwing out my own meds proves I'm crazy.  If not, just an idiot.”</p><p>“Misguided perhaps, but not an idiot and definitely not crazy,” Evan said, “I found them when I threw out that half-banana you had in the bowl. I promise I wasn’t snooping on purpose, but I’m glad you told me.”</p><p>“Are you going to make me talk to my therapist about this?” Connor asked, spinning the bottle with his fingers. Almost like he’d had this conversion with someone in the past and knew what was coming.</p><p>“I can’t make you do anything,” Evan said, “But I can recommend that you should do something at least.”</p><p>“He retired,” Connor muttered, “A couple of weeks back. I haven’t found a new one yet. Which is bullshit, I know, because I probably should, right? But I’ve only ever talked with him. Only him since the tenth grade when I tried to....”</p><p>“Tried to...what?” Evan asked, his heart sinking a little. Because he thought he knew what was going to come next.</p><p>“Tried to kill myself,” Connor said, looking up from the counter and right into Evan’s eyes, “I tried to kill myself, okay? Not just once. Three times. The first time, in grade ten, I got sent to the hospital and checked out. The day I got home from in-patient, my parents told me they were shipping me off to boarding school. Okay? That’s why I left for Hanover. Because I didn’t manage to kill myself.”</p><p>“Connor,” Evan said, rounding the corner of the counter and coming to sit at the barstool at Connor’s side.</p><p>Turning Connor to face him, Evan rolled up the sleeve of his own shirt and traced a finger along the barely-visible scar on the top of his left arm, “Look at me. I understand, okay. I didn’t succeed either. But we’re both still here and that means something, right? We both got our second chances, so let's not waste them. I want to be here with you Connor, but I can only help you so much. You need to talk to someone again. Please?”</p><p>“Okay,” Connor agreed, reaching out and rubbing his thumb over the scar on Evan’s arm, “Thanks for, you know, not running. And listening. I’ll make some calls tomorrow.”</p><p>“That's all I ask,” Evan said before swallowing hard and looking into Connor’s eyes before saying without a waver in his voice, “I love you, Connor.”</p><p>Connor’s eyes went wide but his face spread into a grin and he said, “I love you too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. A Tiny Diner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor woke up and felt like shit. After his talk with Evan, he’d gone to work, then proceeded to sleep for close to twelve hours. Now, his alarm was blaring “Thnks fr th mmrs” beside his head, reminding him that he’d promised that he’d bring Zoe to a belated birthday breakfast this morning. Cracking his eyes open, all he wanted to do was to go back to bed again. He’d been so convinced that Evan was going to break up with him when he’d started having his panic attack, that he’d only made it so much worse. To the point that Evan had had to give him the meds that he’d thrown out.</p><p>He didn’t know how he was even going to start looking for a new therapist and yet, he’d promised Evan that he’d at least look. There was one thing about being mentally ill, Connor was coming to realize that he wasn’t sure who he was going to be if he did manage to recover and become stable. Growing up, it had always been a part of his life. The violent urges, the suicidal thoughts, all of it. It just seemed like it was a part of him now, for better or for worse and Connor realized that he was terrified of what was going to be left of him if he didn’t have those parts of him taking over his life every day. What would be left?</p><p>Laying in bed, staring at the roof as his alarm just kept going off, Connor vaguely wondered if Zoe would kill him for cancelling breakfast this morning. He wondered if he’d care. But then, as he lifted his phone off his bedside table to silence the blaring music, he saw the background on his phone screen. It was a picture of him and Zoe, from only two years ago when Zoe had graduated high school. He’d managed to sneak into the back of the auditorium and get a picture with her - taken by one of her friends - before sneaking back out before their parents noticed.</p><p>That was when they’d just first started trying to mend their severely damaged relationship. It was still a major work in progress, but getting his ass out of bed and going down to the diner would be good progress.</p><p>Rolling out of his bed, almost catapulting Rocky off the bed with him, Connor made his way to the shower. Pulling off his tank top and pants, Connor showered as fast as humanly possible, before getting Rocky vested up and down the elevator into his car. He would be willing to bet that he almost set a world record with the speed in which he managed to get it all accomplished.</p>
<hr/><p>Walking into the tiny diner, Connor looked around and checked his watch. Amazingly, he was actually a little early. Getting a table for two off in one corner, Connor made sure that Rocky was settled underneath the table - not too far into the walkway beside them, but still comfortable. Sending off a quick text to Zoe that he already had a table, he opened up his conversation with Evan.</p><p>Reading over their conversations from the past couple of days, he wondered what he was even going to say to Evan after last night. Now that he knew - kind of - the demons that Connor faced every day, he wondered how he was going to be able to face Evan again. How he was going to be able to talk to him the same way again.</p><p>Typing out a couple of mundane conversation starters before deleting them again, Connor gave up and shoved his phone deep in his pocket, opting to stir his coffee with what little energy he could muster.</p><p>Suddenly, the ball of energy that was his little sister slid into the booth seat across from him with a happy, “good morning Connor, morning Rocky!”</p><p>“Oh hey!” Connor said, looking up from his coffee and at his sister who, at ten am on a Saturday looked way too awake, “happy belated birthday.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Zoe said with a smile as she absentmindedly spun a bracelet around her wrist a couple of times.</p><p>“That new?” Connor asked when he realized he didn’t think he’d ever seen it before.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said, “from dad, but I think mom bought it anyway.”</p><p>“Nice,” Connor said, fully aware that he wasn’t really smiling anymore.</p><p>“So, how've things been?” she asked, accepting the cup of coffee and menu from the equally as awake and happy waitress. Passing one of the two over to Connor, he wondered what he could say to his sister that would make her concerned enough to consider calling the hospital on him a second time.</p><p>“Met someone,” Connor heard coming out of his mouth before he remembered the fact that Zoe potentially would remember Evan from high school. Would likely remember him quite well, given that Zoe often took classes outside of her grade level.</p><p>“Oooo, tell me more,” Zoe drawled as she leaned forwards onto her elbows, eyes wide with a spark of light and mischief.</p><p>“So...he’s a park ranger,” Connor said before taking a long and drawn out sip from his coffee cup, making ridiculous eye contact that he hoped would make her uncomfortable enough to want to drop the topic.</p><p>But she didn’t and asked, “does Mr. Mystery Park Ranger have a name?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor muttered before asking coyly to grind her gears a little, “but why does that really matter?”</p><p>“You want me to call him MMPR for the rest of our meal?” she asked with a laugh.</p><p>“Fine,” Connor said, “his name’s Evan.”</p><p>“I knew it,” Zoe shrieked loud enough to make the guests at the surrounding tables look their way with confusion before saying, “sorry.”</p><p>“Zoe,” Connor hissed, “what do you mean by you knew it?”</p><p>“Eh, I follow Evan on Instagram. Evan Hansen right?” Zoe asked.</p><p>“Yeah...but what the fuck? Why do you follow him there?” Connor asked.</p><p>“Project in grade twelve,” Zoe said before adding, “but he posted a picture the other day and I could have sworn those were your tattoos.”</p><p>“The holding hand's picture,” Connor said, realizing hitting him like a freight train.</p><p>Evan had taken it the morning after they’d stayed out late at Ellison, holding hands on Connor’s bed. The picture had just been from the wrists down and he never considered that someone would recognize his tattoos. He’d just been happy to humour Evan and let him take the picture.</p><p>“Yup,” Zoe confirmed, “cute picture too.”</p><p>“Thanks?” Connor said, hiding his very red cheeks behind his mug of coffee.</p><p>“10/10 though dude,” Zoe said, “I approve.”</p>
<hr/><p>Connor wanted to murder Olivia. Or just make her disappear for the time being. Even though it was a Saturday evening, Spillway’s was basically empty. This only gave Olivia and Lee ample time to drive him up the wall and back down the other side.</p><p>Lee had been pestering him all night about school, midterms and courses he was planning on taking next semester when registration opened. The last thing Connor wanted to be thinking about was next semester or even next week. His life goals mostly consisted of making it through the night without losing his shit at someone or something.</p><p>Then Olivia had just handed over the number of one of her friends and told him to call her. As much as he wanted to yell at her that he was not only gay but also taken, he didn’t and bit his tongue as hard as he could. Hard enough to cause tears to prickle in the corners of his vision, which he remedied by claiming he needed to make an ice run.</p><p>In the kitchen, he gave Colton a small smile and nod, hoping to convey to the young short-order-cook that he wasn’t going to be an asshole towards him. Colton smiled back before turning to his next order. Connor huffed to himself before grabbing the ice from the ice fridge and heading back to his post at the bar.</p><p>Thankfully, Lee and Olivia were occupied for the moment and Connor briefly wondered what Evan was up to. Pulling his phone free from where it was wedged into the back pocket of his grey skinny jeans - which Asa let him get away with wearing - he saw that he had eleven new messages from Evan.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I have an idea</p>
  <p>Camping</p>
  <p>Theres this place in NJ that is really good</p>
  <p>Used to go there all the time with my dad</p>
  <p>It had really nice sites</p>
  <p>“The Great Divide Campground”</p>
  <p>We could go there soon</p>
  <p>Before it gets too cold out</p>
  <p>When is your reading week?</p>
  <p>Actually, you’re probably at work</p>
  <p>Sorry if I’m bugging you</p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This might sound crazy, but I want to get this story done by September 7th (the date that school returns here).  Will it happen?  Probably not.  Am I going to try?  Yes.  Look forward to slightly more frequent updates as I write my ass off.  </p><p>On a slight side note, I found the mp3 player I had way back in the late 2000s until I got a new one a couple of years ago and literally every. single. Fallout Boy song is on there.  So, of course, I listened to all of it and have had "Thnks fr th mmrs" stuck in my head on repeat for days.  It made it into the story its been so stuck in my head.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Connecting The Dots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TWs:<br/>- mentions of past suicide attempts<br/>- mentions of past hospitalizations</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evan didn’t realize how much camping gear his father had actually left behind at their house until he actually went looking for it in the attic. As a kid, Evan used to go camping almost every weekend with his dad, but then, after he’d gotten his diagnoses at seven and his father had left, the camping gear had gotten put in the attic.</p><p>Which, thinking back, was an ingenious move by his mother, given that Evan could vividly remember begging her to bring him camping on more than one occasion. Then, after a couple of months of haven hidden all the gear, Evan had forgotten about it and was much more interested in heavy machinery instead.</p><p>Occasionally, Evan wondered if his dad brought his other two kids camping. If they liked camping as much as Evan had. Evan hoped that he did, and yet, there was a sick, deep, dark corner that hoped he never had any time for them. That if he left him and his mother behind at the first sign of trouble, that that meant he was actually a legitimate asshole. Not just a young man scared of what the childhood diagnosis of severe combined anxiety, panic disorders and Asperger's syndrome meant for his family. Because labelling his father as an asshole was a lot easier than acknowledging that his father was only human.</p><p>Evan wondered if that meant that he was a bad person or if that was just a human response. Maybe it was just that childish part of his brain, screaming while running around in circles, terrified that he was going to be abandoned again. And, it wasn’t like he was left to fend for himself. Because his mother put herself through hell and back to make sure that he had the skills to function normally in society.</p><p>Yet, like the petulant child that he was, he had still bugged his mother at every waking hour to bring him camping. If there was one thing he could go back in time and change, that would be on his list. Not at the very top, but up there.</p><p>To this day, they still had the vast majority of everything that he and Connor would need to head out to the Great Divide. Aside from food, a second sleeping bag to accommodate Connor’s height and Connor’s car, Evan was entirely ready to go.</p><p>The pile of stuff was sitting in the front foyer of his mother’s house as Evan was checking for the fourteenth time that morning that they actually had everything they would need. Aside from food. They were planning on stopping at a grocery store on their way out of the city. But the cooler was ready.</p><p>At fifteen minutes to nine, Evan heard the low rumble of Connor’s car and pulled open the front door to greet his boyfriend. Connor was wearing cargo pants and a tight black tee-shirt without a sweater on - showing off the tattoos that Evan liked so much. He wondered if Connor had been deliberately hiding them until he knew how Evan would react. Evan bet that wasn’t far from the truth.</p><p>Rocky was in the back of the car - his head sticking out the window that Connor had rolled down for him and as Evan waved, he liked to think he was waving to the both of them.</p><p>“Hey, you all ready to go?” Connor said as he walked up the paving stones towards the front door.</p><p>“All ready!” Evan confirmed with a smile, that Connor returned. Once he was close enough, Evan pulled him in for a brief kiss before saying, “let's get this stuff loaded up.”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Connor said, stuffing his car keys into one of the many pockets of his pants before reaching out to grab one of the bags.</p><p>Evan watched him walk down the path and started wondering if he’d actually done any of the things that Evan had asked him to do. Like phone around to find a new therapist or start taking his meds again. Aside from the dark rings under his eyes, Evan swore that his movements were jerkier and less smooth than usual. Like he was so tense from trying to hold himself together.</p><p>Instead of saying anything, Evan just swallowed and grabbed the tent bag, following Connor down the path.</p><p>When they returned to the house for the next load of bags to try to fit into the trunk of Connor’s car or on the roof rack, his mother had come downstairs, now just standing there and watching.</p><p>Sure, Evan had never brought a boyfriend home before - that she knew of - it was still so strange to have her being so good and chill with the whole, “my twenty-one-year-old-son has a boyfriend” thing. It wasn’t like he wanted her to hate him - that couldn’t be farther from the truth - but it was just that, after almost half a decade of knowing that he was gay, that he had irrationally hoped that he’d had some reason to worry. Like most of his worries, they never came to light.</p><p>“Hey honey,” she said, still in her pyjamas and hair messed up from sleep.</p><p>“Hey,” Evan said, leaning in for a hug.</p><p>“‘Morning Connor,” she said, a wide smile plastered across her face.</p><p>As he watched Connor look up from the bag he was going to grab, he watched as they seemed to have a stare-off, looks passing across their features that Evan couldn’t read, no matter how hard he tried.</p><p>“Good morning Nurse Heidi,” Connor replied in a way that sounded like his brain had gone onto autopilot before his features went even paler than they were as he stuttered out, “Ms. Hansen, I meant Ms. Hansen. I don’t know why I said that, sorry Ms. Hansen.”</p><p>“It's okay Connor,” she said, her face looking concerned, but she stayed rooted to the spot.</p><p>“I’m just going to -,” Connor said before motioning over his shoulder and turning around to haul another load out to the car.</p><p>Looking between the two one last time, Evan realized that he knew exactly the look on his mother's face.</p><p>He remembered seeing it only once before, laying on his back on a gurney, high as a kite on ambulance-grade pain killers when they’d brought him into the ER with a shattered arm and broken ribs.</p><p>The look when she realized she knew him.</p><p>She knew Connor.</p><p>There had been times that his mother had come home from work crying. They seemed to be happening more and more recently, but if Evan thought hard about it, he was fairly certain that it had always happened and he’d just been a really naive child.</p><p>He remembered back to the end of the tenth grade when they’d only had a couple of days of school left before the summer break. When they spent most of the time having class parties, field days, movie afternoons or just messing around in the halls signing yearbooks.</p><p>On one of the yearbook afternoons, Evan had skipped school and had walked home. He’d taken his time, stopping at a local bakery for a cookie and watching the trains for a while on the tracks near his house.</p><p>When he’d gotten home, he had heard his mother crying in her bedroom. He hadn’t known why, and, back around the end of the tenth grade, Evan’s anxiety was so cripplingly bad that he hadn’t known a way to approach her and ask what was wrong. So instead, he’d tried to cook them dinner. Sure, it had only been Kraft Dinner and hot dogs, and when she’d come downstairs, her hair was messy, matted and her face was red, but Evan liked to think he’d helped in some way.</p><p>That was the worst he could remember seeing her in recent memory. Evan wondered if it had anything to do with Connor. The fact that they obviously knew each other from the hospital. Connecting the dots wasn’t too hard. All the facts that he’d gathered had lined up. Connor likely had been very close to not being here in front of him today.</p><p>Once he was sure that his boyfriend was out of earshot, Evan turned to his mom and said, “you were his nurse, right?”</p><p>“Evan honey…,” she started, shaking her head.</p><p>Evan knew the answer. <em>I can’t tell you or else I could lose my job</em>. She’d only said that to him more times before than he could remember. He didn’t know why he’d even asked in the first place when he knew that his mother wouldn’t say anything anyway. Maybe it was because he was just so curious or a creature of habit. But he had to ask.</p><p>“It’s okay mom,” Evan said as Connor came back through the door, but staying back in the doorframe awkwardly. He seemed to refuse to actively look up at his mother.</p><p>“Anything else?” he asked, voice pinched and awkward-sounding, looking around the front foyer. Looking at quite literally anything and everything else than having to make eye contact with Evan’s mom.</p><p>There were only a couple other small things, including Evan’s personal duffel bag filled with his clothes, gear and his meds, which Evan grabbed, pushing one last bag towards Connor with his toes.</p><p>“It looks like we’re almost ready to go,” Evan said, shouldering the duffel and grabbing an empty cooler, “You wanna wait till the gas station to use the washroom?”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Connor agreed, grabbing the last small bag off the ground.</p><p>As Connor tethered the remaining gear to the rack of his car, Evan said goodbye to his mom, promising to be safe and to, of course, enjoy himself. Evan didn’t doubt for a second that they’d have a good time, and as he closed the front door and headed down the path, Connor smiled at him and gave a goofy, corny wave.</p><p>Maybe he’d just been overanalyzing, because now, Connor looked fine. He looked like himself again as Evan slid into the passenger seat with a massive grin. Connor started the engine and said, “You ready for this?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Evan agreed.</p><p>“Music?” Connor asked, already digging through one of the pockets of his pants to find his iPod - so he didn’t kill the battery before they got into the mountains.</p><p>“No doubt,” Evan said before saying, “Okay, there's a Fry’s just off the highway that we can stop at, plus it's got a gas station.”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Connor agreed, pulling out of the neighbourhood and onto one of the bigger roads, Rocky already snoring in his back row.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Any other college/university students out there?  If you're starting school tomorrow, I wish you the absolute best of luck this semester!  If you're starting in a week or two weeks from tomorrow (like I am) enjoy your time off while you can!  </p><p>To all junior/high school students out there starting school sometime in the near future, good luck with your courses and whatever new changes your school district has made to accommodate the times!</p><p>Thank you for reading and I'm going to try to keep to a new chapter every 2-3 days schedule so this can be done by Sept 7 (while I pointedly NOT work on a different Dear Evan Hansen AU that I started.  Lets all just ignore that for the time being...sounds good?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Knight In Shining Armour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- mentioned/discussed suicide attempt(s)<br/>- discussed abandonment issues</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor was pretty sure he’d never gone camping before. Unless you counted Scouts sleep aways as camping, which, based on the definition, wasn’t really camping anyways. It was just an excuse for a bunch of ten year old boys to be let loose in the woods for a weekend and go absolutely nuts. So pitching a tent with Evan while Rocky ran around their ankles, chasing birds and squirrels was most certainly a new experience.</p><p>He liked to think that, in general, he was pretty open to new experiences, but this was getting a little too new for Connor’s liking. But Evan was happy, smiling, laughing and chattering away to himself about all these random camping facts that Connor couldn’t find a bone in his body willing to feel too pissed off.</p><p>The campground was beautiful. It had been first-come-first-serve, but aside from a half dozen other groups, the area was empty. Set away from the main path, the site that Evan had selected had a beautiful view of the mountains just across the clearing from them and there was a small creek babbling along at the back of the mapped-out lot. They’d parked Connor’s car at the mouth of the gravel driving area of the site and had spent a couple of minutes hauling the stuff they would need to set up the tent over to an area that Evan had deemed decent.</p><p>He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d been out to the mountains. Sure, when he still lived at home, he would get dragged to this terrible ski resort every winter to ski with family friends that Connor despised. But that wasn’t really the mountains. Physically, yes, they were out in the mountains, but this was real. This was real wilderness. No electricity, no plumbing, no obnoxious rich people with more money than brains throwing themselves down a hill covered in snow while their suicidal teenage son looked over the edge of a black diamond wondering if his lack of competence would be enough to kill him on the way down.</p><p>Connor didn’t miss those mountains at all, but he thought that, given enough time, they could really grow on him.</p><p>He could still feel the lasting effects of seeing Evan’s mom that morning at their house. Connor really didn’t know what he was expecting. Perhaps he’d assumed that it was just too early in the day for her to be home from a night shift, but regardless, when he’d seen her, all he could think of was the younger lady with the blond hair promising that they’d save him. On one of the two days of his life when he hadn’t wanted to be alive the most.</p><p>Looking back on it with what he knew now, given that he was the same age as Evan, Heidi probably saw too much of her own son in him. And, given what Evan had said that other afternoon, sitting on the stools in his kitchen, when he’d rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and had pointed out the scar that Connor had seen but never really thought much of.</p><p>“Look at me. I understand, okay?” Evan had said, “I didn’t succeed either.”</p><p>Evan had tried to kill himself too. That much had been made clear. He wondered if Evan had been taken to Bellevue when it had happened. If his mother had been working or if she had been at home, waiting for her son to come home. There were a lot of thoughts that were bouncing around on the inside of Connor’s head when they’d gotten into his car to head out to the campground.</p><p>Perhaps the most embarrassing thought though, was that, at Evan’s house, he’d opened his mouth and on autopilot, had called Evan’s mom Nurse Heidi. In front of Evan nonetheless. Because what better way to fan the flames underneath his own ass. Sure, Connor had told Evan about his numerous hospital visits, but he hadn’t said that his mother was his nurse. Maybe that was something important to mention soon. It was probably important to mention soon.</p><p>Clipping a set of guidelines from the fabric of the tent onto the fibreglass rod he was holding, Connor said, “Your mom was my nurse.”</p><p>The other side of the tent rod that Evan had been holding onto and wiggling around significantly as he worked on getting his set of clips connected suddenly stopped moving when Evan spoke, “I had wondered.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” Connor said, getting his final clip connected and resting his side of the tent against the grass of their site.</p><p>“I’m glad you told me,” Evan said, resting his assembled side of the tent against the ground, “I’m not mad that you didn’t say anything though.”</p><p>Connor squinted in Evan’s direction, “are you a mind reader or something?”</p><p>“Nah,” Evan said with a shrug, “Severe anxiety. Teaches you to read people.”</p><p>“That's why I called her Nurse Heidi this morning,” Connor explained, starting to bundle up the bag for the tent with the intention of stuffing it back into his car.</p><p>“Connor,” Evan said, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder, just like he’d done on that first day at the park. That was when he noticed that Evan was pointing at where Rocky was standing, now just inches away from him, obviously altering him.</p><p>He needed to calm the fuck down.</p><p>A common issue recently, it seemed.</p><p>“Thanks boy,” Connor said, patting the top of Rocky’s head.</p><p>“My mom’s been a nurse to a lot of people,” Evan said, pulling Connor in for a hug, “it really doesn’t phase me anymore.”</p><p>“I guess that makes sense,” Connor said, nodding along, “but still, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”</p><p>“You don’t owe me any of your secrets Connor,” Evan said before planting a kiss on some of the awkward and frankly uncomfortable five-o-clock shadow that Connor could just never quite get rid of.</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor mumbled into Evan’s shirt.</p><p>But, he realized that he must have not sounded too sure because Evan added, “Yeah. Because that's not how healthy relationships work. You’re allowed to have secrets. As long as it's not something like, I cheated on you or something. Even though, maybe one day, I’d like it if we were able to share everything.”</p><p>“Really?” Connor asked, pulling himself back from Evan a little to look into his eyes properly.</p><p>“Really,” Evan said with confidence.</p><p>"I’d like that,” Connor said, pressing a kiss to Evan’s lips.</p><p>“Me too,” Evan said once Connor pulled back. Then, he added, “ready to finish setting up? Don’t want to do this in the dark.”</p>
<hr/><p>There was something surreal about laying on your back under the stars, Connor realized, his tongue tingling from where he’d burnt it eating a roasted marshmallow, left hand warm from Evan’s hand and right arm warm from Rocky’s body heat. The sun had set hours ago, but Evan insisted that they went on one last walk before tucking into their sleeping bags for the night.</p><p>So they’d taken his Mag-Lite and had walked up to the top of a small hill. Once Evan turned off the flashlight and their eyes adjusted to the dark - no campfire messing with his vision - Connor realized that he could see an entire arm of the Milky Way above their heads. All his life, he’d lived within a day’s drive of this place, and yet, never once had he taken the time to look up.</p><p>“Just enjoy the view,” Evan whispered and Connor could feel him shifting from where he laid on the crunchy and dead grass next to him.</p><p>“I am,” Connor whispered back.</p><p>“I can hear you thinking,” Evan teased.</p><p>“Tell me a story then,” Connor challenged cheekily, “anything you want. I’m going to be thinking one way or another.”</p><p>“Anything?” Evan asked.</p><p>“Anything,” Connor confirmed.</p><p>“Okay...um...<em>once upon a time, there was a young prince. His kingdom wasn’t exactly large, it didn’t make a lot of money but the king and queen did their best and the young prince had a pretty awesome childhood. </em></p><p>
  <em>Every weekend, the king would take the prince to a neighbouring kingdom and they’d spend a couple of days together. They’d set fires and they’d cook the fish they caught. They’d go on long walks up the sides of mountains and they’d talk about the types of trees and other plants they could find. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But during the week, the prince had to go to school. He didn’t go to school at the castle, but instead at a better school in the village. The prince did well in school, but when he started his second year, the teachers told the queen and king that the prince would hide in the bathrooms if he had to speak, or he spent too much time on the soft mats. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The King didn’t want to do anything about the prince’s strange behaviour, but the queen took the prince to a doctor without telling the King. The doctor figured out what was wrong with the prince and told the messengers at the castle to relay a message to the king and queen. When the messenger couldn’t find the queen, he decided to tell the king the news instead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The King moved to a kingdom very very far away and wished to never have to see the queen or the prince again. The prince never travelled into the mountains of the neighbouring kingdom again until he became the king of his mother’s kingdom when he met a beautiful knight in shining armour that wanted to go with him. </em>
</p><p><em>And the knight and the new king had a wonderful adventure, </em>the end,” Evan said with a giddy giggle.  From where he was laying, Connor could tell that Evan was blushing into the dark.</p><p>“Was that true?” Connor asked, running his thumb over Evan’s knuckles.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan whispered.</p><p>“Sorry about your dad,” Connor said, “But thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that.”</p><p>“You know what else was true?” Evan asked.</p><p>“What?” Connor replied, almost holding his breath.</p><p>“That I think I did find my knight in shining armour,” Evan said, rolling over to awkwardly bump his nose into Connor’s while trying to kiss him.</p><p>“I love you,” Connor said.</p><p>“I love you too,” Evan replied and Connor could feel the smile radiating off of him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another chapter!  Woohoo!</p><p>1) Okay, so, how fucking weird was Evan's story?  I couldn't figure out a better way to have Evan tell Connor about his dad and this was basically as good as I could do.  Weird?  Yes.  Effective?  Yes.  Hotel?  Trivago.  </p><p>2) Just as a fair warning, this story will have exactly 10 more chapters.  They are planned out and have been for about a month now.  4/10 will be happy, sweet, adorable chapters.  6/10 will be darker, more mental health-related chapters.  Just a fair warning.  </p><p>3) Also, I wanted to mention that I love reading everyone's comments and I love receiving them!  However, I never know how to respond to them without sounding awkward or feeling awkward.  So, if I have never responded to a comment you have left, I love each and every one of them and appreciate your commentaries and feedback.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Whatever It Is, Its Something Real</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In Evan’s experience, there were typically two types of nightmares. Anxiety nightmares, which usually was just things that he’d been hyperfocused on during the day projected into his dreams. Running away from things that he could never really get far from, peeing his pants during a presentation, presentations in general. When he woke up from anxiety nightmares, he’d feel the hard thumping of his heart and, one more than one occasion, would let himself slip into a full blown attack.</p><p>But those were manageable and they were predictable. Anxious during the day? Anxious at night. It was just how it worked. The other kind of nightmares were unpredictable and would leave him shaken for the rest of the day.</p><p>Evan called them memory nightmares. The internet had a half dozen other names and terms, but really, all of them made him feel like he had gotten stuck in the middle of a clinical trial, so, his own made up term was just fine. But memory nightmares? Those would be of his father leaving, falling from the tree, or sometimes, just extrapolations that his mind seemed to create on a whim. Like, what if he had succeeded in the summer before the twelfth grade? What would have happened to his mom? Would she have ever been able to move on like he had wanted her to?</p><p>So when he felt Connor tense and whimper on the camping mattress beside him that morning, the first question that crossed his mind was, is Connor having a nightmare? He got his answer pretty quickly when Rocky bolted to his feet, asleep to awake in less than three seconds and started licking Connor’s face.</p><p>When Evan found that Connor was awake, pulling an arm out of his sleeping bag and draping it over Rocky’s back, Evan dragged himself a little closer to his boyfriend’s back. Reaching out and running his fingers through the tangled locks of brown hair, Evan whispered, “Can I come closer?”</p><p>“Please,” Connor muttered with a small sniffle.</p><p>Separated by two layers of thick fabric, Evan could feel the heat radiating off Connor’s back when he wrapped his arms around his thin frame. Idly thinking to himself, Evan wondered if Connor had lost some weight since the first time they did this. Because, when he shifted, dragging Connor back towards his embrace, it seemed way easier. Or maybe Evan had just gotten some of his muscles back in the past month and a half and he was just worrying for nothing.</p><p>Pulling Evan out of his thoughts before he opened his mouth and said something he was going to regret, Connor mumbled, “sorry I woke you up.”</p><p>“It's okay Connor,” Evan replied, “It's all okay.”</p><p>“This doesn’t happen often,” Connor said, rolling a little in Evan’s arms.</p><p>“Connor,” Evan said, pressing a kiss into the back of the brown-haired head in front of him, “It doesn’t bother me that you get nightmares.”</p><p>“It should,” Connor mumbled, “If you knew what I was dreaming about.”</p><p>“So then let me into that world and let me judge for myself if it's bothersome,” Evan countered, lifting himself onto his elbows and laying Connor down onto his back so that he could look into his boyfriend’s multicoloured eyes.</p><p>“Help me understand what's going on,” Evan said as Rocky got to his feet and made his way back to the doggy bed that they’d set up for him inside their tent.</p><p>“It's not important,” Connor said, closing his eyes before pressing the palms of his hands against them. Evan could tell he was shutting down. Stuffing all the emotions and memories that were plaguing his dreams back inside whatever box he usually kept them in inside his head.</p><p>“Hey,” Evan said, trying one last time to draw Connor out of his shell. When his boyfriend didn’t move or say anything, Evan added, “Well, when you're ready to tell me, I’ll be all ears, okay?”</p><p>“It's nothing,” Connor said, “seriously. I’m fine.”</p><p>“Okay,” Evan agreed, but still didn’t believe him fully. But, the topic had been dropped. Connor was done talking.</p><p>So Evan changed the subject, “So do you want to go back to sleep or start getting breakfast ready?”</p><p>“Breakfast?” Connor asked.</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” Evan replied.</p>
<hr/><p>To say Connor was beautiful was an understatement. Sure he hadn’t showered in over a day, had bundled his hair into a messy bun and had shoved it under his baseball cap and was wearing baggy outdoor gear. But to Evan, it was perfect.</p><p>They’d hiked out to a waterfall nearby, just following the river that Evan knew would get them there. Connor had been leading, letting Rocky off his leash and letting the massive dog just sniff and snuffle around whatever he’d decided smelled really good. He seemed a little lost in his own world, so when Evan had stopped walking to take a picture of Connor, he hadn’t noticed.</p><p>In the sun, his hair had a golden shine to it and what few colours had been added to his mostly shades of black tattoos were suddenly illuminated much more vibrantly. When it had all been reflecting in the sun, Evan pulled out his camera - the one he’d gotten on his twenty-first birthday - and had taken a couple of pictures.</p><p>At the falls, Evan put his bags down a couple of meters from the splash pool and looked over at Connor.</p><p>“C’mon,” Evan called, crossing his arms behind his head and tugging off his shirt, “Lets go swimming!”</p><p>“Dude…,” Connor said, “Its gonna be fucking freezing in there.”</p><p>“Nah, you’re hot enough,” Evan said, hands going to his own belt and tugging it loose. In the sun, it didn’t even feel that cold, he acknowledged with a snort.</p><p>“I don’t care how hot you think I am,” Connor said, while tugging off his own shirt, “that water is going to take your breath away.”</p><p>“Okay,” Evan called, having successfully stripped down to nothing but his underwear and starting to carefully walk over the rocks towards the spray of the water.</p><p>It wasn’t warm, that's for sure. But really, it was mountain water, so Evan didn’t know what he was expecting. Still, Connor was right in a way. It was pretty cold. Not horrible though. It still held a significant amount of residual heat from the summer months, so it wasn’t like that time when he did the Ice Bucket Challenge at work.</p><p>“Be careful,” Connor said, reaching down and taking off his own hiking shoes.</p><p>Then, they were both standing under the spray of the falls, in their underwear, laughing like teens. Evan remembered when he’d come out this far with his dad. They’d bring a bar of soap and that was where they would shower. Of course, Evan knew better than that nowadays, considering there were fish and wildlife that drank and lived in this water, but the memory persisted.</p><p>There were days that Evan wondered what his dad had made of his life. Of course, he’d gotten remarried and had had kids, but was he happy? Were his kids happy? Evan knew that his mom had done the best she could, raising him on her own, but sometimes when he’d do things like this, that he’d once done with his dad, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have been different had he stuck around.</p>
<hr/><p>Laying on his back in the tent that night, Evan ran his hands through Connor’s hair, both of them snuggled close, regardless of the layers of sleeping bags between them. His hair was a little crispy from the minerals in the water of the falls but it still felt nice between his fingers. Connor’s arms were wrapped around Evan’s midsection and his head was resting on Evan’s chest.</p><p>Thinking back to high school, Evan would have called himself crazy, had someone told him he’d be doing this with Connor Murphy. Connor Murphy, who was explosive and violent. Who threatened to kill people. Who made paper mache crafts in art class using the detention slips he’d gotten over the years. But who was just a troubled teen. With a failing relationship with his family, struggling with his sexuality and just wanted to be loved.</p><p>Who would have guessed that Connor Murphy loved animals, loved cuddling and being held, who loved coffee with an excessive amount of cream and sugar, and who would get such an incredibly excited about roasting marshmallows that he stuck one straight out of the fire into his mouth.</p><p>Almost two months, Evan realized. They’d gotten this far in only two months. From complete strangers to boyfriends that said, “I love you.”</p><p>He wondered if this was usually how dating worked.</p><p>Of course, in his experience, the answer was yes. But, his experience was limited to exactly two people - one of which was laying, almost completely asleep on his chest.</p><p>Evan figured that between himself and Connor, they were probably anomalies. The odd ones out. And maybe they were taking this too fast. It was certainly a possibility. But they both had a decent concept of how fragile and fleeting human life was. How quickly and how easily someone could just...be gone. Maybe that was why they were going faster than normal. The possibility was there.</p><p>There was little Evan knew and understood about the universe, but the feeling tugging at the corners of his chest when one of Connor’s legs twitched - signalling it had fallen asleep - and a soft sigh escaped his lips, he knew that it was something real. Whatever it was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chronic and mental illness has been kicking my butt these past couple of days, but here is your next chapter - slightly shorter than normal and not on time at all.  </p><p>Also, things are going to start going downhill next chapter...just...fyi.  If you couldn't see it coming, this is your heads up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. No Loose Ends This Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- suicide attempt<br/>- mentions of past sh<br/>- very negative thoughts about life</p><p>Tags have been updated, please take a look.</p><p>Please tread with caution this chapter if ANY of those things are a major concern for you.  A tl;dr will be posted in the End Notes if you'd prefer to skip this chapter and still know what happened.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor knew that right about now would be a good time to phone his therapist. Maybe under normal circumstances, he would have done exactly that. But he still hadn’t found a new one and now, pulled off on the side of the highway between Evan’s home and his apartment, Connor realized that maybe he should have actually taken Evan’s advice.</p><p>Leaning his head forwards against his steering wheel, letting Rocky lick the tears off of his face, Connor wondered how things had gone to shit so fast. He’d had the most amazing weekend in the mountains with Evan. He’d been actually genuinely happy without his meds since he was probably fourteen. Of course, just Connor’s luck, the second he dropped Evan off and unloaded his car, he could feel the storm clouds sneaking into his brain.</p><p>He’d tried to hold them off. He’d stopped for gas, had bought a package of cigarettes, chain-smoked them on the hood of his car until the sunset but even that did nothing. So he’d gotten back into his car, managed to drive a couple more minutes down the road before he could feel his fingers itching. Like the last time. When he totalled his first car. When he knew that swerving off the highway and into the metal barrier would get him nowhere but he did it anyway. Because he couldn’t see any possible way things could get better.</p><p>But instead of crashing off the road, Connor slowed and pulled off at a truck stop that he could see approaching in his headlights. Turning his engine off, Connor let himself break down. When the tears came, he didn’t hold back.</p><p>“Why am I so broken?” Connor found himself thinking, “Why can’t I just be normal? It's been so long. Evan doesn’t deserve to deal with me. Rocky doesn’t deserve this either.”</p><p>There was something about being depressed for almost as long as he could remember. That for day to day, it didn’t hurt as much anymore. The feeling of having nothing left to live for didn’t weigh on his mind quite as harshly as it used to. He didn’t go seeking out reasons to feel needed or wanted. Because nothing ever stuck around forever.</p><p>But the thing about depression was that, when it hit you hard, it hit dangerously hard.</p><p>Connor could feel himself slipping. His arms were tingling and itchy, just begging for him to slice through them like hot butter. His throat and lungs hurt from all the smoke he’d put into himself and Connor figured that it was just about what he deserved. He didn’t deserve to not feel the pain. The number of horrible things he’d done in his life, this barely made up for them.</p><p>From his pocket, Connor felt his phone buzz and offhandedly wondered if it was Evan, texting him to ask if he’d gotten home yet. The small voice of reason at the edge of his mind screamed at him to lie to Evan. Just send him off a text to get him off his scent. Let him suffer in peace.</p><p>Evan deserved so much better than Connor. He’d actually tried to get better. He did what had been asked of him and now, he deserved to reap those rewards. Find a guy - or girl - to settle down with and start a real family. Not whatever was going on between him and Connor. Because Connor was starting to fear that whatever it was was toxic. Connor was never going to change. It was just a fact. He hadn’t changed since high school. Nothing was different.</p><p>And Rocky deserved an owner that would love him. Properly. Connor knew he loved Rocky, but the poor animal didn’t deserve to deal with him. What kind of life was that? He didn’t get to be a dog. Every single hour of every single day he had to look after Connor. Make sure that he didn’t make a fool out of himself. Then be woken up in the middle of the night when Connor came home from work in a panic. It wasn’t the life that anyone deserved, especially not a dog as loyal as Rocky.</p><p>Lifting his head up from the steering wheel just a little and letting it drop back down a couple of times, Connor pulled his phone out of his pocket. He saw the home screen notification from Evan, confirming his suspicions. So he typed back a quick message.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>@home </p>
  <p>good luck at work</p>
</blockquote><p>Then, he pulled open his chrome app and keyed in a quick question.</p><p>“Animal Shelters in New York”.</p>
<hr/><p>Sitting down at the island in his kitchen, Connor pulled out a notepad from the drawer under the sink.</p><p>The first time, he hadn’t written a note. He hadn’t said anything. He’d just gone up to his room, locked the doors and, well, expected to never wake up again. Which, obviously, had never happened.</p><p>The second time, it’d been in his car, on the way home from Hanover after graduating high school. But that time, he’d walked away with barely a scratch. His parents were pissed, he was pissed and had basically had to live in a Connor-proof-jail that his room had been turned into until he moved out.</p><p>This time, there would be no loose ends. Rocky was at a shelter now, he would be fine. His parents really couldn’t care less, so the only people he cared about were Evan, Zoe and Asa. He didn’t think it’d be fair to any of them to leave without an explanation.</p><p>he did what he knew how to do best, and put pen to paper. Maybe there was some type of sick irony to writing on a piece of paper that was bound to last longer than he was. It was poetic in a way.</p><p>Folding up his Spillway’s uniform on the counter, he put Asa’s note on top of it. He put his smoke-infused grey hoodie out for Evan and for Zoe, the first set of rings off his fingers that he’d borrowed from her and never returned.</p><p>It was fitting. Something to remember him by, if they just didn’t all forget about him in a couple of weeks. It wasn’t that he was memorable anyways.  He wouldn't be missed.  He would just become another statistic and he would fade into the darkness.  It was inevitable.  </p>
<hr/><p>West Bank No-Kill Animal Shelter got so many strays every day that it was hard for Alana to differentiate between the animals that came through their practically revolving door. Thankfully, due to her community outreach program, many animals were collected within days of their arrival. Snap a quick picture, throw it up on their website, animals were reunited with their owners faster than they had back when she was just a volunteer. One of the many benefits of her promotion.</p><p>She was the only person in the building that night actually working with the animals. Their security guard was at his desk, looking at the cameras and so she didn’t feel nervous when the door buzzer rang. There was a reason that she always had someone stay overnight. Who knew when a cat or dog would run away and be found. They needed somewhere to come. They usually came to her.</p><p>The person who wandered through the door was tall, pale and smelled like smoke. They had a hood up over their head, hair and face, but from where she was sitting, Alana could just barely make out what looked like a five o’clock shadow dusting a very chiselled jaw. In his hand was a twisted and worn leather leash and attached to the end was a massive dog. At first glance, the dog looked like an over-grown golden lab and even with how tall the guy was, the top of the dog’s head still was at his hip bones. It would be a challenge to find a kennel large enough to keep him in, but Alana was up for nothing if not a challenge.</p><p>“Like to drop this guy off,” the voice said, dark, scratchy and rough sounding. Not at all the type of person that she expected to be bringing a stray dog to a shelter, but Alana also made a point to never judge books by their cover, no matter how rough they looked.</p><p>“Of course,” she said, letting her chair glide over to a computer unit for her to fill out an acquisition form. All animals had to be logged, regardless of how long they were going to stay with them.</p><p>"Where did you find him?” Alana asked, getting ready to start inputting information. When she didn’t get a reply, she looked up and saw that the guy was gone. Alana blinked a couple of times and adjusted her glasses.</p><p>“The audacity of people,” she mumbled to herself as she stood and rounded the desk to find that the dog hadn’t moved an inch. Not only was he sitting calmly, but he looked confused. Like he could understand what was happening to him or why he was here.</p><p>Grabbing the tablet off the desk that they used to fill out some information, she grabbed the leash and gave it a soft tug. They’d have to find him a kennel to stay in until she could get his information up on their website. But he didn’t move. Barely budged at all and just looked up at her with this entirely unreadable look.</p><p>“C’mon boy,” Alana said, “help me out here.”</p><p>She tugged again, a little harder this time, and still, he didn’t move.</p><p>“Need help kid?” the security guard asked. Alana bit her tongue and refrained from berating him over calling her “kid.” She was not a kid.</p><p>“Please,” Alana said as the guard stood and rounded the desk. He approached the large animal and bent down to pick him up. When the guard wrapped one arm under the large dog’s chest, she saw a flash of metal. A collar.</p><p>“Wait wait wait,” Alana yelped, rushing forwards to examine the tag that had been exposed. It didn’t list a name or an address, but in small printing on a red background, it read, “I’m a service dog. If I’m lost, please call the number on the reverse.”</p><p>Flipping the tag over, Alana was already digging through her pockets to find her phone. Keying in the numbers, she spoke with the person at the end of the line, who instructed her to flip over his right ear to find an identification tattoo. After a couple of harsh key clicks on the end of the line, the person gave her another phone number.</p><p>The area code indicated that the number was from around here, and so she thanked the person, hung up and keyed the new number in. After a half dozen rings, the call dumped to voicemail.</p><p>“Hello, you’ve reached Connor Murphy, I’m away from the phone right now, please leave a message,” the voicemail said, the voice eerily similar to the one of the person who she’d just spoken to.</p><p>Connor Murphy. The older brother of her best friend.</p><p>Cancelling the call, Alana phoned Zoe, who picked up on the second ring.</p><p>“Zoe, its Alana,” Alana said, not even bothering to explain herself. Something was wrong, she knew it.</p><p>“Alana, its like, midnight, what’s going on,” Zoe asked.</p><p>“Where’s Connor?” Alana asked.</p><p>“At his apartment probably,” Zoe said, “what’s going on?”</p><p>“Zoe, he just dropped his dog off at the shelter,” Alana said.</p>
<hr/><p>The last thing Connor heard before the edges of his vision finally went black was the sound of sirens. He let his thoughts go dark before he figured out if it was stopping at his apartment complex or not.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>~~~Tl;dr~~~<br/>- Connor drops Rocky off at a shelter<br/>- He then attempts suicide<br/>- Alana is working at the shelter and connects the dots as to who the dog belongs to, she phones Zoe.<br/>- The chapter ends on a cliffhanger</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Two Documentaries And A Phone Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- basically the same as last chapter but from Evan's POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car ride home from The Great Divide was pretty uneventful. Aside from Connor pulling off on the side of the highway a couple of times when Rocky whined that he needed a bathroom break, they’d just spent most of it listening to old songs from high school on the radio and talking about whatever came to mind.</p><p>Evan learned more about Connor’s family. How his parents didn’t accept his sexuality and how he and Zoe had been trying to make repairs to their relationship. How his parents didn’t understand his diagnoses and always thought he was making stuff up or acting out for attention. How he’d lashed out and yelled and screamed at Zoe because she just seemed like the easiest target.</p><p>He learned more about Connor from high school. How he’d been suffering from severe depression, panic attacks and relatively undiagnosed borderline personality disorder for the most of it. Why he exploded at the drop of a hat at school. Why he got himself into fights that he could never get out of. How he started spending more time high, in detention or suspended that he was in danger of not graduating high school.</p><p>But then, he also learned more about this Connor. The one who obviously cared very deeply for Rocky and his sister. Who loved reading classic literature and actually enjoyed going to school. The one who loved swimming and rock climbing. And didn’t really like his job at the bar that much.</p><p>He learned how Connor had met Rocky as an orphaned puppy. How he’d nursed him back to health. How trying to convince the forlorn animal to eat had actually helped him go into remission with his own eating disorders. Evan learned about the struggles of getting Rocky trained and passed through his ESA training and about Rocky’s first experience on a plane.</p><p>As they sat and talked, briefly lapsing into silence to just enjoy whatever song had ended up playing on the shuffle next, Evan wondered just how much of everyone’s fears of Connor from high school had simply been because he was misunderstood. He wasn’t lashing out at them. He was lashing out at himself. It was his brain giving him mixed signals that he had no way of understanding and instead, they were turned into violence and destruction.</p><p>How much that kid in the yearbook photo, with the crooked teeth and barely-there smile, had been hurting without anyone catching on. How many nights he had spent awake, just wishing for something - anything to be different. How many evenings he’d spent listening through the walls at his parents arguing about him. Talking about him like he didn’t exist.</p><p>Looking over at the boy driving the car, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, high tied back, tattoos and piercings on proud display, Evan wondered just how many of those words caused invisible - or, visible - scars. How many times he heard things people had said about him echoing through his skull.</p><p>Evan wished he could reach out to Connor in a way that mattered. Take all his pain and flush it down the toilet. He wished that he didn’t have to watch Connor breakdown and then build himself up again without letting him in and without letting him help. He wished that Connor could trust him. That he could tell Evan when he felt like re-fried dog shit, that he could tell him that he’d had a nightmare. But Evan realized this weekend that maybe, Connor just wasn’t able to. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. But maybe, he just couldn’t.</p>
<hr/><p>As they pulled up at Evan’s house, his mother’s car was prominently absent. She was at work, which, honestly, made sense. He knew she was doing her night shift rotations this month and, well, with the sun almost setting behind the other houses down the street, Evan supposed that she was most certainly at work.</p><p>They worked quickly, unloading all the gear. Rocky was left to snuffle around the backyard as Connor and Evan worked quickly to re-set-up the tent to allow it to dry. Evan knew that he should probably hose it down tomorrow morning to get all the smoke and bug residue off of it, because really, who knew when the next time it would get used? It was almost the end of October and in a few weeks, they were bound to have snow on the ground.</p><p>After pitching the tent, they headed inside and cleaned out the cooler bags into the fridge, garbage can and sink. Evan’s sleeping bag, clothes and extra blankets were divided into piles to go through the washing machine and by the time they were done, Evan was about ready to offer for Connor to just sleepover and head home in the morning.</p><p>But Connor said he needed to go home, give Rocky a bath, and get ready for school the next day, so Evan let him go with a shy smile, promising to try to stop by Spillway’s sometime in the coming week just for a quick drink.</p><p>When Connor headed out to his car, he had a look on his face Evan just couldn’t quite read. Starting the engine and driving away, a rock of anxiety settled in his gut.</p>
<hr/><p>Evan was never really a light sleeper. If he was asleep, he was typically dead to the world. But something just wasn’t sitting right in his chest. For whatever reason, he was wide awake and anxious as fuck. He’d already taken some Lexapro - which usually knocked him out - and yet, it seemed to have done nothing. So instead, he’d set up camp at the desk in his room with a nature documentary and a cup of tea, hoping that his body and brain got the message that it was time to go to sleep.</p><p>Maybe he was missing Connor, the logical side of his brain said. After spending three full days together, it was probably his separation anxiety getting the best of him. So, doing what any rational, socially anxious person would do, Evan fired off a quick, “are you home safe yet?” text to Connor.</p><p>When Connor didn’t reply right away, Evan threw his phone in the direction of his bed and leaned back against the backrest of his chair. Everything was fine. Nothing was wrong.</p><p>But the thing with anxiety was that it never really turned off. Maybe he was just catastrophizing again, but this felt way more real than the other times. The difference between the anxiety of getting abducted at the supermarket as a kid if he walked too far away from his mom versus the anxiety before writing a test. One was guaranteed to happen, the other wasn’t. For some reason, the tugging at his chest and the churning in his stomach just felt a little too real tonight.</p><p>It was almost like his subconscious brain knew something was going wrong but refused to let him know about it.</p><p>The house was quiet, his mom was working a night shift, and so when Evan found his eyes drooping closed, he just went with it, leaning his head against his hand as the narrator droned on about how the Northern Pine Beetle was accelerating deforestation. He knew that this was the opportunity he needed to get some sleep and start fresh in the morning. Nothing was going wrong anyway because if it was, he would know about it. He couldn’t read minds and he couldn’t predict the future.</p><p>When the first documentary finished, he let the next autoplay, not even daring to look over at the LED clock on his night table or the flashing numbers at the top of his computer screen. Slumped sideways in his chair, Evan briefly thought to himself that he should just go lay in bed so he didn’t wreck his back. But that issue was a problem for tomorrow Evan, so he didn’t move.</p><p>Just as Evan found himself drifting off to sleep, still seated at his desk, his phone started ringing. Shooting upright in his desk chair so fast he almost landed on the floor, Evan frantically started searching for the infernal ringing noise. It had to be around his desk somewhere, it was certainly loud enough.</p><p>Finding his phone on his bed just before the last ring happened and it dumped to voicemail, he saw his mom’s face and number lit up on the screen. Exhaling a little, because of course, it was just his mom, Evan answered the call, heart pounding, eyes wide, suddenly very awake.</p><p>“Hi mom,” Evan said, clearing his throat a little so it didn’t sound like he was talking through a sock.</p><p>“Evan,” his mother said and Evan could feel his heart fall out of his ribcage. Her voice was pinched and nasal. Something was wrong. He knew it. The second he saw her calling, he should have known. He should have known something was wrong.</p><p>“An ambulance brought Connor in a half an hour ago."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One chapter a day between now and Sept 8?  Lets go!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Four Hospital Visits And Rocky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- suicide attempt<br/>-- cutting<br/>-- overdose<br/>- hospitalization<br/>--stomach pump<br/>--feeding tubes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time that Connor woke up at a hospital, he’d been nine and had broken his leg in a skiing accident. Or, less of an accident and more of Connor being a reckless show-off that ended with him launching himself off a snowboarding jump and into a tree. Supposedly, he’d been lucky that the only thing that he’d broken was his leg.</p><p>When he’d woken up after smashing into the tree, he remembered thinking that he was dead. His head felt all spinny, his leg hurt and the fluorescent lighting made everything an uncomfortably bluish white color. Just like the priest at Sunday services always said heaven would look like. But, even then, at nine, Connor knew he wasn’t going to heaven. He supposed that that was probably a sad thing for a nine year old to be thinking, but soon, it was the least of his concerns.</p><p>The second time, the first thing he’d done was start crying. Hot tears slipping down his cheeks as he tried to clench and unclench his fists. Nothing moved, no matter how hard he tried. His stomach rolled, his throat felt like he’d eaten a bag of sand and when he tried to swallow, he found that he couldn’t. Gagging on whatever had been shoved down his throat, he tried to move, cough, speak, anything and realized that he couldn’t.</p><p>He’d been terrified. That somehow he’d screwed up badly enough and he’d be disabled the rest of his life. The internet had said that it’d be a possibility. There had been testimonies from people who’d...tried to do exactly what Connor had done. They’d caused liver and kidney failure. They’d been artists that had lost their livelihood due to nerve and muscle damage. Now he was going to be one of them.</p><p>The third time he hadn’t even been scared. He’d known that the pills he’d taken wouldn’t have been enough to seal the deal. But after Miguel had been kicked out, he hadn’t seen any reason to keep trying to go on. He’d crashed hard. He’d screwed up. Nothing was working out. If he got himself kicked out and sent home, he’d have to go back to public school. The school was on his scent. So he’d made a split second decision.</p><p>Waking up in a hospital in New Hampshire, completely alone, he realized it was basically exactly what he deserved. He wasn’t scared. But he didn’t get kicked out. Somehow, enough strings had been pulled and he’d been allowed to stay until graduation.</p><p>Then he’d driven his car into a tree. He hadn’t gone to a hospital that time. Walked away from it and had been driven home in the back of a police car. The totalled Volvo had been towed to a scrap yard and Connor had left home less than a week later, walking away from his old life, determined to start new.</p><p>But as he opened his eyes, clawing his way out of the medicine induced haze, Connor realized that he hadn’t hadn’t started new at all. He hadn’t changed, he’d just fooled himself into thinking he had.</p><p>Staring at the ceiling, Connor blinked back tears once again as he realized the mess he’d gotten himself into this time. He’d been so convinced that he’d die. He had no plan B, he had no plan for tomorrow. He had no plan on what to tell people if he did manage to walk away. What he’d tell Evan. What he’d tell Zoe.</p><p>He recognized the feeling of having his stomach pumped. The tingling in his throat from the tube they’d used, the sloshing in his stomach - all solid food being replaced by liquids meant to repair the acid lining that he’d probably obliterated. The feeling of a feeding tube in his nose, the line going down the back of his throat, keeping the contents of his stomach at a stable and safe level. Keeping him from losing even more precious weight than he already had.</p><p>The feeling of stitches prickling skin. The snug tightness of skin being pulled tight to help heal. Thick bandages protecting himself for hurting himself more than he already had.</p><p>Though, when Connor wiggled his toes, he noticed with a sick sense of humor that they did move. Even this time, the nightmare of his second hospital visit hadn’t come true.</p><p>In the silence of the room, Connor tried to take stock of everything else. Two IVs, one in either arm. Oxygen in his nose. A heart rate monitor clamped tightly to a finger, the resounding beeps coming from somewhere behind his head. Hair tied up awkwardly at the crown of his head. Hospital gown sitting awkwardly beneath the blankets that were never quite warm enough.</p><p>Looking at the roof, Connor faced defeat. He was defeated. Miguel always talked about rock bottom. He thought he’d hit rock bottom before. When he crashed into that tree, he’d thought that was rock bottom. But that was nowhere close. This? He’d hit it. Fallen off a cliff and landed face first on the flat plateau of nothingness.</p><p>Squeezing his eyes shut again, Connor let himself fall back into the sleep induced haze of morphine. He didn’t deserve to get to wake up.</p><p>The next time he woke up, it wasn’t as hard. It was more subtle. This time, he woke up to the feeling of someone changing his IV. It was a horrible feeling. The feeling of someone dragging a line of cold metal out of his arm and then shoving a different one back in.  He clenched his jaw against the feeling.</p><p>Blinking his eyes open only after the new IV settled into place, a piece of tape tacked across his wrist by soft fingers, Connor saw the back of a nurse’s head. Kinked blond hair streaked with grey, tied back into a ponytail, a couple whisps flying free, he felt another tear streak down his cheek.</p><p>When he’d landed himself in the hospital the second time, his parents had barely visited. He’d silently cried himself to sleep almost every night. Until Nurse Heidi caught on. That he was just a fifteen year old boy, terrified that he’d been forgotten. She’d stayed with him, every night. Made sure he fell asleep with someone.</p><p>That had been when Connor had first learned about emotional service dogs. Nurse Heidi had found one of the dogs that the hospital kept around and had made sure it had been there for Connor when she had to go home.</p><p>How disappointed must she be in him that he was here again? That he hadn’t recovered. That he hadn’t kept his promise to keep himself away from here</p><p>“Nurse Heidi?” Connor whispered, unsure of what else to say. </p><p>She turned around, looking to face him, her face nothing but sad.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, closing his eyes again.</p><p>Then, he felt a soft touch on his inner elbow. Connor didn’t open his eyes and clenched his jaw tighter.</p><p>“You’re sick Connor,” Heidi said before drawing her hand away, “Connor look at me.”</p><p>He opened his eyes.</p><p>“You’ve really hurt yourself this time. You need help. I’m not arguing with you,” Heidi said, turning to sit on his bed.</p><p>“You’re on a feeding tube, again,” she said, “don’t take it out this time. It won’t help you and we’ll know.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Connor said, looking away. He didn’t want to see the look on Heidi’s face as he broke her heart, “but I don’t think I can get better. Not this time.”</p><p>“Connor stop that,” Heidi said.</p><p>“Its true,” Connor said, “I’m just sorry that Evan got dragged into this. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”</p><p>“Last time, I told you to live for yourself and no one else,” Heidi said, “to try to recover to live your own life. That you shouldn’t have to have a reason to be happy. And I don’t care if this is unprofessional, but if you really can’t see a way to recover for yourself, do it for Rocky and Evan.”</p><p>“Rocky’s gone,” Connor said.</p><p>“No he’s not,” Heidi said, “Your sister’s friend found him. They brought him here.”</p><p>“That's impossible,” Connor replied, shaking his head a little too hard, his eyes blurring a little as his brain struggled to catch up to the rapid movement.</p><p>“Its not. Rocky’s been hanging out at the nurses station, he’s fine,” Heidi said, “I can go get him if you want?”</p><p>“Could you?” Connor asked, fully aware of how small and young his voice sounded.</p><p>Heidi stood and slipped out of the room, almost as silently as she used to. Connor stared at the ceiling and willed himself not to start crying again.</p><p>How scared had Rocky felt? Being left at a shelter all alone, with no warning, no understanding of what was happening. Maybe Rocky should have a better family. A better owner. Someone who would treat him right and wasn’t a complete mess.</p><p>From somewhere down the hall, he could hear the skittering of claws on linoleum flooring, almost like that day at Ellison, when Rocky had run away. When he’d met Evan, properly, for the first time. How happy Rocky always was to see him, regardless of what had happened.</p><p>“Connor,” Heidi’s voice said, leading Rocky around the bed to his side - not letting the large brown dog climb up, “I told you he’s here.”</p><p>“Hey bud,” Connor whispered, letting Rocky lick his face as he felt the tears start falling again, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I keep torturing these guys, I'm sorry.  </p><p>Also, I fixed up the timeline a little, because I realized that this whole story I've been constant on what happened to Connor in grade 10, but inconsistent on his second attempt.  So I fixed it up and this is the official timeline...<br/>- Connor attempted at the end of grade 10, got sent to Heidi's hospital<br/>- Attempted again in grade 11 after Miguel got expelled, got sent to a hospital in New Hampshire<br/>- Crashed his car at the end of grade 12, did not get hospitalized<br/>I think I explained this in this chapter and I've gone back and edited some of the inconsistent chapters (17 and 22 specifically) so now everything lines up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. The Cat With Six Lives</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- you know the drill.  Connor's still at the hospital, though he is starting to "get better" and there is less drama in this chapter.<br/>- less of a heavy chapter, I should say.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last time Evan had been in a hospital, his grandma had passed away. The year before that, he’d been the one laying in the bed. When he’d walked out the doors of Bellevue on the night that grandma Hansen had died, Evan had decided that he would do anything in his power to never have to go back to one. Yet here he was, standing outside of Connor’s hospital room, looking through the glass at his boyfriend.</p><p>It had been exactly eight hours since his mother had sent him home. Telling him to go home and shower. Sleep. Eat. All the things he hadn’t been doing since they’d brought Connor into the hospital two days ago. Suddenly everything was way too real. He’d almost lost Connor and he didn’t want to have to leave him alone again anytime soon.</p><p>It was still surreal, seeing him lying in the hospital bed completely unmoving. As if his legs had taken root into the tile flooring, Evan stared through the glass wall, unable to force himself to blink. Connor was dressed in a light blue hospital gown with white blankets draped across his legs and hips. His brown hair wrapped around his cheekbones, while an array of machines and monitors dotted his skin. Evan watched his boyfriend’s chest rising and falling steadily and reminded himself, yet again, that Connor was alive.</p><p>Evan now realized just how close Connor was to becoming a statistic. The difference between knowing that his boyfriend was severely depressed and seeing the evidence laid out in front of him was like a slap to the face. A serious and legitimate wake-up call. That he hadn’t started taking his meds again, hadn’t called around to find a therapist. He had been downplaying everything and Evan regretted not realizing it soon enough.</p><p>“You can go in if you want,” a high-pitched voice from behind him said, startling Evan from his thoughts.</p><p>How long had he been standing in the middle of the hallway not moving? Evan really didn’t know. His concept of time hadn’t been working for the past two days. He’d called off work and so he had no concept of the passage of time.</p><p>Turning around to address the person who had spoken, Evan realized that it was just a passing nurse that Evan didn’t think he’d ever met before.</p><p>He nodded in reply as the nurse continued walking down the hall. Reaching forwards, Evan put his strength into opening the glass wall. It slid awkwardly along its track, but it moved. Taking one step inside the room, he watched as the little green line on one of the monitors bounced up and down in time with a soft beeping.</p><p>Proof of life.</p><p>Proof of a heartbeat that was not giving up.</p><p>That was all Evan could have asked for.</p><p>Looking around a little further, he noticed that the thick white bandages were still layered many times around both of his thighs. Both of his arms were laying wrist up on the bed, IV’s safely taped down. In the fluorescent lighting of the room, the purple rings around his eyes looked deeper and more prominent than they were when Evan saw him drive away from his house two days ago. Regaining years of much-needed sleep in a couple of hours. It seemed almost cruel.</p><p>But he was so close.</p><p>So close to not being here.</p><p>His mother had said that Connor could likely still hear. While the sedative and pain killers were strong; they would not be strong enough to turn his brain completely off. Whether or not that was a good thing, Evan couldn’t decide. He needed rest free from his own thoughts that seemed to plague every moment, awake or asleep.</p><p>“Hey Connor,” Evan whispered, taking a couple more steps into the hospital room. From where Rocky was sleeping on the floor, he lifted his head a little, as if acknowledging Evan’s presence, but otherwise didn’t move.</p><p>Dragging one of the hard-plastic chairs across the room, back towards where he’d had it yesterday, he sat down next to the bed. From this angle, he could see his chest rising and falling. It was reassuring.</p><p>Connor was alive.</p><p>“My mom said you can hear me. I don’t know if I believe that or not, but I guess it’s worth a try,” Evan said softly.</p><p>Looking down at Connor’s IV’d arms it took an incredible force of will to not grab onto one of them and drag it towards his chest. He wanted to hold onto it for dear life, to prove that he was still here. It was hard to convince himself that Connor still had a chance to recover. A cat living six lives.</p><p>With a gentle fingertip, Evan traced up his arm, the scars underneath his tattoos slightly concave to the touch, visible without the usual veil of fabric over top. Reminders of a fight almost lost.</p><p>Reaching out a little more, Evan smoothed the wavy brown hair that had escaped from his ponytail away from his face, now messed and frizzy from lack of attention.</p><p>“What were you thinking Connor?” Evan asked, running his hand through Connor’s hair again, “Why didn’t you just say something? Why did you decide that this was your only solution?”</p>
<hr/><p>At some point, with the comfort of hearing Connor’s heartbeat, Evan had drifted off again, but he woke to the feeling of fingers dragging themselves through his hair, tangling and pulling gently against the knotted curls every now and then. Confused and disoriented, Evan’s memory returned to him all at once.</p><p>Getting the phone call from his mother. Getting to the hospital as fast as humanly possible. Sitting in the waiting room for a couple of hours while completely zoned out on nothing. Seeing Connor lying in the bed. Spending hours at his side while the doctors came and went, trying to save his life. Preserve his quality of life.</p><p>“Hi Evan,” he heard Connor’s voice rasp from above him. Jerking his head up and getting his hair yanked for his trouble, Evan looked into Connor's eyes, the blue and brown colouring completely void of any spark.</p><p>“Hi Connor,” Evan replied, pushing himself to sitting as Connor pulled his slightly more mobile arm – the one with only one IV in it – back across to its side of the bed.</p><p>Looking at him, Evan tried to search Connor’s face for emotion. Happiness, sadness, anxiety, remorse, guilt, anything. At that moment, Evan believed that he was truly feeling nothing.</p><p>“You’re here,” he muttered, looking at Evan like he was seeing things or could not understand what was going on fully.</p><p>“Of course I am,” Evan replied.</p><p>They sat in silence for a couple of seconds and Evan thought that he could see the gears inside Connor’s head trying to turn. Trying being the operative phrase. It looked like the gears were getting jammed up as he tried to understand what kind of situation he had managed to get himself into.</p><p>“I’m at the hospital,” he whispered like he was still struggling to come to terms with that particular fact. Like he hadn’t quite got there yet.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan replied, not wanting to say anything that could possibly cause any anger or start a panic attack. Though, Evan bet that he had enough medicine coursing through his veins that he couldn’t start spiralling even if he tried. Evan simply wanted him to be leading this conversation as he started to figure things out.</p><p>“Why are you here?” he asked, squinting his eyes and cocking his head to the side slightly, the exact same way Rocky did when he got confused.</p><p>“Because I’m your boyfriend Connor,” Evan replied, hoping the answer was self-explanatory.</p><p>Connor huffed a breath of air out his nose like he often did when he did not know how to respond to something someone said.</p><p>Instead of saying anything else, Evan reached out to touch his cheek. Instead of it being comforting, Connor flinched away from Evan’s touch.</p><p>“Connor, what’s wrong?” Evan asked, pulling his hand away.</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious? Is it not obvious what is wrong?” he exclaimed, his voice cracking and breathing ratcheting up in speed. Not quite hyperventilating yet, but still faster than normal.</p><p>“Breathe Connor,” Evan said, waiting for him to calm down a little.</p><p>“I don’t care about this,” Evan continued, pointing at the bandaging around his thighs before lightly tapping on his skin over the top of where he knew his heart was beating strongly inside his chest, “I care that this is still going.”</p><p>The first tear ran slowly down Connor’s cheek, with each proceeding coming faster and faster. Moving closer, Evan wrapped his arms around his shoulders and tucked Connor’s head into his chest and let him cry. Rubbing his hand up and down the protruding bones of his spine and ribcage, Evan wondered how long he had been feeling this way. Planning without anyone knowing.</p><p>“Its okay Connor, I’m right here,” Evan muttered over and over again, letting the taller boy soak the front of Evan’s shirt with his tears, “I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.”</p><p>After a couple of minutes, including Rocky getting up off the make-shift bed that the nurses had put out for him, Connor calmed down enough to say, “you should leave.”</p><p>“Why?” Evan asked, pulling away from him a little and sitting back down in the chair.</p><p>“Because you deserve someone so much better than me,” Connor replied.</p><p>“Where else on this planet am I going to find someone like you, Connor?” Evan asked, but jumped back into his statement before Connor could, inevitably, cut him off, “where am I going to find someone who understands me? Who loves painting and reading and English classes at university? Or someone who cares so much for Rocky? Someone who gets me. Huh? Where am I going to find someone else like that?”</p><p>“You shouldn’t love me,” Connor said, starting to pick at the skin around his fingernails.</p><p>“If you want me to leave, I will,” Evan said, “If you don’t want to be my boyfriend, that's fine. But I’m not leaving forever, because I’m still your friend and I want you to get better.”</p><p>“I don’t want that,” Connor replied, looking up at Evan’s face with a childlike fear Evan could only remember seeing once, painted across much younger features, the second before getting punched in a fight at school.</p><p>“I’ll be here for you,” Evan said, “from now, to the second you walk out these doors, and longer, if you’ll let me, I’ll still be here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies on missing yesterday, totally forgot to post - was at the doctor's all day yesterday.  I'm going to try to go for another chapter today (hopefully) and if not, hopefully, two chapters for tomorrow to get back on track.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. You Can't Be Cured In A Month</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- hospitals<br/>- in-patient therapy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last time Connor had been admitted to an in-patient facility, he’d been fifteen and had no one on the outside. He couldn’t care less if he stayed there for one month or six months. It simply didn’t matter to him. But this time, as Evan helped his bundle up all of the stuff he’d managed to collect in his hospital room over the span of a week into a duffle bag, he realized it’d be weird to not see Evan for a whole month.</p><p>“I promise I’ll be there,” Evan had said, “The second you walk out the front door of the treatment center, I’ll be there.”</p><p>Connor wanted to believe him. But that annoying, nagging voice in the back of his head said that one month would be just the right amount of time for Evan to leave him. Sure Evan said that he wasn’t planning on leaving, but Connor knew better than to get his hopes up. This time though, he wasn’t planning on drawing it out. He wasn’t going to act out. He was going to get in, keep his head down, and get out. He had to. There wasn’t really any other option this time.</p><p>His first evening there, Connor didn’t think he slept at all, every single little noise startling him back from the brink of sleep. Then, around four in the morning, whatever pain medication they’d given him before bed wore off and his legs just hurt. There was no other way to describe it other than plain old blinding pain. If he was at home, he’d go in search of ibuprofen, but he didn’t think that he’d even make it to the dining room area where the nurse's station was.</p><p>That and he hated using the damn crutches the hospital gave him. Because, aside from trying to get his medications balanced again, intense therapy and the other random bullshit he’d end up having to do with the other patients, he now had physiotherapy on top of it all. Which he’d have to actively participate in for the foreseeable future if he ever wanted to walk properly again.</p><p>As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if there was some sick irony behind saving his life. Sure, the doctors said that he’d recover close to a hundred percent mobility with consistent physio over the span of half a year, but that didn’t really make Connor want to remain on the face of the earth any more than it had a week and a half ago.</p><p>A week in and they let Rocky start sleeping in the same room as him again. He actually understood that point, considering he had tried to leave him at an animal shelter. But, once Connor proved to the nurses and the doctors that he wasn’t going to do something horrible or depraved to Rocky, they let them reunite. Again.</p><p>At a week and a half, Connor started to feel the haze and nausea that accompanied a meds change lifting. He could think more clearly, felt more compelled to at least try to join in on some of the group activities and, with great joy, he earned his grounds pass.</p><p>Connor started spending hours outside in the cool fall air with Rocky. As the month uneventfully switched from October to November, Connor started drawing the trees he could see on the back of napkins that he’d fold into tiny squares and stuff into the pocket of his draw-string-less hoodie. He wondered if Evan would like to see them if he ever managed to get out of this place.</p><p>Two weeks in, Connor traded in the bulky silver crutches for a red-coloured cane. Visually, his legs looked a lot better, more healthy and less weak, but he knew that the scars would remain for the rest of his life. Then, Connor started designing some new tattoos. The therapist asked him about them once. Asked if the tattoos were a way of forgetting about his mental illnesses. Connor had replied that perhaps at one point in his life it had been more of an “out of sight, out of mind,” type approach. At this point, it really couldn’t be more true. He just wanted to move on.</p><p>Connor was given a package of coloured sharpies and a stack of printer paper after three weeks. With them, he was allowed to draw whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He started doing sketches of nature, the building itself, his ward-mates. He drew Evan. He drew Rocky. He designed tattoos. On occasion, he’d draw something for one of the other people, but that was rare. He kept to himself, except during group therapy, which he hated immensely.</p><p>Three and a half weeks in, Connor was given his official discharge date. November 30th, exactly thirty-six days after he was admitted. Sure he was still going to be living in an assisted living facility for the first two months since he still wasn’t allowed to live entirely alone, but he wasn’t going to be trapped at a hospital. Evan could come and visit, Connor could go to work, school and the gym. January 30th, he’d move home, good behaviour permitting.</p><p>That night, he used some of his phone credits to phone Evan. Usually, he just traded them with other residents for random art supplies, saving only enough to phone Evan every other day. “I’ll be there,” Evan said.</p><p>“How?” Connor said with a laugh, “you can’t even drive.”</p><p>“Actually,” Evan said, “I got my learners license. Zoe, Alana and I figured it out. I get to drive you home. Like I promised.”</p><p>“I love you so much,” Connor replied.</p><p>“I love you too,” Evan said, “Now behave. Don’t wanna get extended for bad behaviour.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dare,” Connor promised as they said their final goodbyes.</p><p>On the day that Connor was set to check out, the physiotherapist traded his red “safety” cane for a normal-looking black coloured one. Sure, he’d still have to come back for the next five months for physio, but everyone seemed to agree that he didn’t need a safety cane anymore.</p><p>But overall, Connor felt better. Not great. Not by a long shot. But he realized that he’d gotten some of his motivation back. His desire to do more with himself. To be better. Sure, he’d had a huge setback. Not just a month of in-patient, but now, he was a semester behind at university and he needed to find a new job. Something with considerably less stress involved. Somewhere that didn’t serve food and wasn’t a bar so he could bring Rocky along with him.</p><p>Gently sliding his drawings into a manila envelope that one of the nurses had given him, Connor realized that he was actually excited to go back to the real world. Because this time, he had something to look forward to. Goals, dreams, a future. For the first time that Connor could remember, he could see one, five, ten years into the future. Now, he thought he understood why attending therapy and taking his meds was important. He had concrete proof of the detrimental what if that came from stopping both cold turkey.</p><p>He’d still have bad days. He wasn’t magically cured, he wasn’t fixed, because that just wasn’t how mental illness worked. For the rest of his life, Connor knew he’d need medications. For the rest of his life, he’d have to be careful with his emotions. He’d have to remember how to calm down. To remove himself from a situation before it blew up. To remember that he had to take his meds and actually go to therapy. Or else, he’d end up here again.</p><p>Though this time, as Connor walked out the front doors of the hospital, he realized that he’d actually be fully willing to remember all those things. Plus, for the first two months, he’d have help. But, he realized that he was actually okay with that. He was ready to accept help. Acknowledge for the first time in his life that he was not invincible and that it was okay to need help.</p><p>There were two cars parked in the roundabout outside the facility when the nurse opened the front doors for him. One was Zoe’s yellow Volkswagen Beetle and the other was one that Connor didn’t think he’d seen before. A black Saturn Ion. Standing at the curb was Zoe, Alana and Evan, all smiling.</p><p>As he approached, Rocky’s leash in one hand, his cane in the other, Evan pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Connor smiled and waved shyly.</p><p>“Hey you,” Evan said, pulling Connor towards him by the collar of his string-less hoodie and planting a chaste kiss to his lips.</p><p>“Hey,” Connor said, pulling away and accepting the flowers, shifting the cane to the hand holding Rocky’s leash, he continued, “the whole gang’s here.”</p><p>“How’re you feeling?” Zoe asked as Connor went to hug her.</p><p>Accepting the hug, Connor replied, “Not bad actually.”</p><p>“That's good to hear,” Alana said and Connor wondered absentmindedly why everyone that he knew had barely changed appearance since high school.</p><p>He’d learned from Evan that he’d accidentally brought Rocky to the one animal shelter in town that Alana had chosen to work at. She’d been the one to call Zoe and Zoe had called 9-1-1. They’d saved his life. Or, started the process. For the first couple of days, he’d been mad at them. Eventually, he’d started to forgive them and even appreciate what they’d done. He was ready to have a second chance at life.</p><p>“You’re standing better now too,” Evan said as they started loading Rocky into the car, followed by his bag and eventually, with a little help, Connor himself.</p><p>Saying goodbye to his sister and her friend, Evan nervously but effectively drove away.</p><p>“I’m so proud of you,” Connor said once they turned onto the highway, “You’re driving.”</p><p>“I decided to give it a try,” Evan said, “plus, you know, it'll be helpful to have a set of wheels that go whenever I need them.”</p><p>“It...wasn’t because of me, right?” Connor asked, picking at the hemmed pocket of his jeans.</p><p>“No,” Evan replied, “Not entirely anyway.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Connor said.</p><p>“Connor, I forgive you, okay? I forgave you weeks ago,” Evan said as they pulled off onto the street his new apartment was on, “I love you. I’m here, whenever you need me.”</p><p>“I love you too,” Connor replied, “Thank you for being here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've accepted fate.  I'm going to be a day behind.  I really don't think that I have the mental abilities to write another chapter today.  </p><p>But, as per usual, thank you all for the hits, comments, kudos and everything you do!  I love hearing from you guys and I'm so glad that everyone is liking this.  </p><p>Also, this story has now surpassed my next-most-word-counted story, making this the most words I've ever written for a story!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. I Think I Can Promise That</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- what Connor did to his legs<br/>-- cutting<br/>- implied sexual content</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Laying his head on Connor’s chest and listening to the heartbeat, Evan continued rubbing the thumb resting on his boyfriend’s hip in slow lazy circles. Just enjoying each other's company, properly, for the first time in two months.</p><p>“I missed this,” Connor muttered as he dragged a hand through Evan’s curls which were in desperate need of a trim. He hadn’t really bothered doing much to them over the past couple of months, considering winter was rolling through and it could get really cold on morning patrol at the park.</p><p>“I missed it too,” Evan agreed, tilting his head up to accept a lazy kiss from his long boyfriend, making sure to not jostle or bump his legs, which were still extremely tender in places. They probably would be for a while, Evan knew.</p><p>“Going to get more tattoos?” Evan asked when they pulled apart.</p><p>“Yeah, probably,” Connor agreed, “I actually drew a bunch of new designs. You know, when I was at the hospital.”</p><p>“Wait,” Evan said, grabbing one of Connor’s wrists and holding it up to his face. In the dim light, he could just barely make out the lake that he knew was there, “you drew all these?”</p><p>“Designed them all myself,” Connor said before gently sitting up a little, “I actually have a book in my bag.”</p><p>“Can I grab it?” Evan asked, suddenly very curious.</p><p>“Sure, just...pass me the bag?” Connor asked, shifting a little to get his arms underneath his body as Evan rolled off his chest.</p><p>Leaning off the side of the bed - which Evan was significantly closer to, he grabbed the bag Connor had brought with him. Letting his boyfriend dig for what he wanted, he watched a sketchbook be removed from its depths, the corners a little tattered and dog eared.</p><p>Pushing himself to sitting a little more, Connor flipped open the book and flipped straight to the folder in the back. It was stuffed full of drawings, mostly done with various colours of crayons or with what looked like sharpie, all done on paper napkins, newspapers or what was likely printer paper.</p><p>“Did these all at Mayfield,” Connor said, pulling them loose, “you can look if you want.”</p><p>From what Evan understood based on what Connor had shared, the ones on recycled paper had been done earlier in his month's stay. Back when they didn’t trust him with anything other than the napkins he squirrelled away at mealtimes and the crayons he traded for from other residents.</p><p>“You kept them all?” Evan asked, spreading some of the drawings out in front of them.</p><p>“Most of them, yeah,” Connor said, “some of them got ripped up. Didn’t keep those.”</p><p>There were a lot of really angry looking drawings - if you could look past the fact that they were with really cheery colours. Faces scribbled over with thick lines, plants, animals and Rocky that looked like they’d been half-finished before he’d given up on them. Drawings of the food, which looked eerily similar to the crap they got for lunch back in elementary school, and drawings of the little plastic cups that he would have been given his meds in, the tiny pills all looking like they were leeching ghosts from their capsules.</p><p>“They have a sort of scary quality to them, don’t you think?” Connor said.</p><p>Looking over his shoulder at where Connor was sitting behind him, he saw that his boyfriend was looking at the pictures as if he was seeing them in a new light. Like he hadn’t actually looked at them since he had done them.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan agreed, “kind of uncertain maybe?”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” Connor replied as Evan continued sifting through the papers.</p><p>But then, the drawings seemed to get more optimistic. The faces of the other residents, the food and the meds were slowly becoming less frequent and were being replaced with drawings of trees and leaves. Drawings of Rocky laying on a hospital bed.</p><p>“The day they gave me real markers and paper, I did this one,” Connor said, pointing out the first drawing that wasn’t on a napkin or a newspaper.</p><p>One of his own face. It was the first drawing done in sharpie. Looking up at the sky, rays of light shining through the clouds and landing on the features he’d been looking at in the mirror his whole life, a halo of leaves surrounding his head.</p><p>“It's incredible,” Evan said as he gently dragged the tips of his fingers over the inked paper.</p><p>“It's you,” Connor said, leaning against Evan’s back gently.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan agreed, “How’d you do it?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Connor asked, planting a kiss to the side of Evan’s neck.</p><p>“Like, you didn’t see me for a whole month,” Evan rephrased, “how’d you get it so...real?”</p><p>“Muscle memory?” Connor said, “Maybe later I’ll find the other drawings I’ve done of you.”</p><p>“There's more than just this one?” Evan asked, putting the piece of paper back into the stack.</p><p>“Of course,” Connor said, “You’re just...so fun to draw.”</p><p>Evan let out a laugh at that, “Okay, well, I’m glad you think so.”</p><p>“I do think so,” Connor said before lowering his voice to a whisper, “My beautiful boyfriend that is just so nice to draw."</p><p>After that, none of the drawings were of anything else other than nature, Rocky or himself. It was like seeing the word through Connor’s eyes. The world as he slowly started getting more level inside his own head. As the medications and therapy started working. It was like the cloud of anger, depression and resentment had lifted and he was able to get a better hold on what was important to him again.</p><p>“So which ones are meant to be tattoos?” Evan asked, helping Connor collect the drawings now spread across his old navy-blue bedsheets and get them back into the folder they came out of.</p><p>“Oh, these ones,” Connor said, quickly leafing through this sketchbook to find the pages that he was looking for.</p><p>Evan recognized these ones. There were smaller ones and pieces of all of them had come from the drawings he’d done at the hospital. Once again, they were mostly natural, but with more vines and leaves, and fewer ponds and pools of water. They seemed more rudimentary and all-covering than the sleeves on his arms. Still, Evan could certainly picture all of the drawings across both of his thighs, wrapping around the sides and all across the front.</p><p>“I think they’ll look awesome,” Evan said, pressing a kiss to Connor’s cheek, “but how does everything feel?”</p><p>“Like…, in my head or in my legs?” Connor asked and Evan watched as he gently rubbed the tops of his thighs. Like he subconsciously knew what Evan was talking about and just needed the confirmation.</p><p>“I dunno, either,” Evan replied, “just...be real with me, how do things feel?”</p><p>“Mmmm, my head feels fine,” Connor said, “I legitimately think that these meds are actually working this time. My legs...I dunno, they say that physio is supposed to help, but I’m just not feeling it right now.”</p><p>“But you're still going to keep going, right?” Evan asked.</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Connor said, “I mean, I hate every second of it. But, I get why it's important. One of these days I’ll make progress.”</p><p>“Hey, you’re off crutches and using a cane. You’re not bandaging your legs anymore,” Evan said, “That's progress, isn’t it?”</p><p>“You’re right, just...doesn’t always feel like it, you know?” Connor said.</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan agreed, “I remember rehab after I broke my arm. Took years for the strength in the left to be the same as the right again.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Connor said, “not the end of the world. One day, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Evan said, rolling a little and turning himself over to face Connor a little better. Gently, he raised himself up and, using his muscles, cantilevered himself over Connor’s body to kiss him properly.</p><p>“I love you, you know?” Evan said between kisses.</p><p>“I love you too,” Connor replied.</p><p>“Can you promise me something?” Evan asked, gently lowering himself down closer to Connor.</p><p>“I can try?” Connor said.</p><p>“Promise me you’ll stay alive,” Evan said before adding, “and if you feel like you need to break that promise, you need to promise me to phone someone that will help you. Or phone me. I don’t care. But I want to help you Connor.”</p><p>“I think I can promise that,” Connor, kissing Evan again, “now come on, you’ve been teasing me all night. Can we please do...something more?”</p><p>“Yeah yeah,” Evan said, “keep your pants on.”</p><p>“I intend on doing the exact opposite,” Connor whispered jokingly.</p>
<hr/><p>The next morning, Evan looked over at his sleeping boyfriend. His hair was still tied behind his head in a bun, but more hair than before had fallen out of the elastic band. Arms pillowed under his head, shirt still off, Evan’s loose sweatpants barely staying up on his hips and Connor looked like a dream.</p><p>But as he looked at his boyfriend, Evan reminded himself one last time that Connor was still alive. He survived. He was alive. And yet, his memory nightmares persisted. Waking up with his heart beating fast, convinced that Connor was dead. That the cuts aiming for his femoral arteries reached their mark. Attending a funeral for the one person in his life that truly understood him.</p><p>Looking back at Connor, his chest rising and falling evenly, Evan closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. Connor was alive. Connor was fine. He could go back to sleep. Nothing bad was going to happen. Not this time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Getting Used To This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Connor,” Evan’s voice said from behind him, the tone of his voice warning and yet calming at the same time, “you’ll do fine, they’ll love you.”</p><p>“You sure?” Connor said as he fiddled with the cuffs of his nicest sweater.</p><p>After he’d handed in his resignation at Spillway’s, the first thing he’d done was drop his resume off at a bunch of other random locations. Now, he was headed off to a job interview. But still, it felt weird to not be working at Spillways anymore. He’d worked there since he’d been hired almost two years ago and it was just odd to not be working behind the bar every night.</p><p>But it just wasn’t the place for him anymore, and he’d explained that to Asa. How he appreciated every second that Asa had given him behind the bar. Training him, teaching him, helping him learn to work with the customers, friendly and not. But it was time for him to move on. Connor understood and appreciated Rocky now. They needed each other and a bar just wasn’t a safe place for his pup. An art gallery, a library, the university bookstore, those were all extremely animal-friendly places. Where Rocky could chill calmly at his side as he completed low-stress tasks and have ample time to rest under a desk or during breaks.</p><p>He loved Spillways with every fibre of his being - it was his first real job, after all - but he had to move on. It was time for a change.</p><p>“Absolutely sure,” Evan said, “besides, if, for some reason, they ask if you’re an artist, you have a ready-made portfolio up your arms.”</p><p>“Ha ha, very funny,” Connor said before planting a kiss on Evan’s nose.</p><p>“Now hurry up, you’re gonna be late,” Evan replied as they descended the stairs of Evan’s house. Not as fast as they once had, as Connor still had to go slow - one hand on the railing, the other on his cane, but faster than even just last week. Connor hated to admit it, but physio was slowly but surely helping.</p><p>Once again, Connor had slept over at the Hansen's. The official reason was that the art gallery he’d applied to was significantly closer to Evan’s house than his current living situation. But really, they both just knew it was to spend time together. Sitting on Evan’s bed, watching movies, eating popcorn, going for midnight walks around his neighbourhood. You know, the normal boyfriend things they didn’t get to do before.</p><p>“Good luck at your interview Connor,” Heidi called from the kitchen.</p><p>It was no longer particularly weird to see Heidi or even be in the same space as her. Sure Connor was excellent at making it weird, on occasion, but Heidi seemed to just let it roll off her back. Like his random outbursts weren’t anything and having Rocky sitting at their feet under the table while they ate spaghetti for supper was normal.</p><p>Because it was starting to become that way. The more and more Connor improved, mentally and physically, the more and more night passes he was awarded. His two months at the assisted living facility were flying past and in just two weeks, he’d be freed. Back to his old apartment. Back to living alone. Connor wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to it or not.</p><p>On the one hand, he couldn’t wait. Not being woken up at midnight by a resident screaming? Priceless. Not having every single move he made watched? Even better. But there was still that little voice in the back of his head, reminding him of what happened last time he’d been left unsupervised after only two days with someone.</p><p>Of course, Connor knew the difference. This time, he was attending three therapy sessions per week instead of none for close to a month. He was regularly taking meds that worked, instead of ones that made him feel like such horse shit all the time that he’d decided to go cold turkey. He had Rocky back. So yes, Connor saw the difference, but the fear was still there.</p><p>“Will you be back for supper tonight?” Heidi asked as Connor worked on very cautiously getting his feet into his boots. Why he still chose to wear these things were beyond his comprehension skills, as something like running shoes or normal boots were significantly easier to get his feet into. But, Connor liked how they looked with his dress pants and sweater, so the combat boots were his choice. A bad choice. But a choice nonetheless.</p><p>“I didn’t manage to get a pass for tonight,” Connor said as he unfolded his frame to standing and getting balanced with Rocky and his cane combined.</p><p>“That's quite alright,” Heidi said, “sleep well then.”</p><p>“Thanks Heidi,” Connor called back as Evan unlocked and opened the front door.</p><p>Connor walked down the front path towards his car, Rocky, on his hard leash, and Evan in tow, he pointedly didn’t think about how one of the last times he did this, he ended up in a hospital for two months. Because this was different. He didn’t want to say that he had changed, because he was still the same person, inside and out. It wasn’t like he had gotten a brain transplant or something. The only thing that was different was the chemicals. They were bouncing around his brain properly now.</p><p>Getting Rocky situated in the back seat of his car that he had only very recently been given the go-ahead by his physiotherapist to drive again, Connor kissed Evan and whispered, “I love you.” “</p><p>Love you too,” Evan said, “good luck.”</p>
<hr/><p>Connor flopped down on his bed, letting his eyes slip closed and listening to quite literally every bone in his back crack simultaneously. He smiled to himself. The lady that conducted his interview actually seemed really nice and the art gallery actually contained art that Connor could get behind.</p><p>He accepted the fact that some people saw art differently than he did, but sometimes, he just looked at a piece of art and wondered what on earth the type of drugs the artist was on to create something like that. Because Connor remembered the one notebook he had somewhere under his bed at his old apartment that was filled with the sketches he did in high school when he was actively tripping balls on whatever drugs were laced into his weed.</p><p>"Man, I did some bad things in high school," Connor thought to himself with a snuffling laugh.</p><p>Opening his eyes again and shaking his head, Connor realized he probably should make some calls. Not only to the university to withdraw from his fall courses but also to his sister. That annoying voice in the back of his head also suggested that he should phone his parents. Which wasn't going to happen, realistically, but Connor wondered if maybe he should just give it a try.</p><p>Rolling over and grabbing his phone off of his night table, Connor decided to briefly procrastinate on phoning the university and instead dialled in his sister’s phone number.</p><p>“Hey Zoe,” Connor said when his sister picked up after a couple of rings.</p><p>“Connor, hey,” Zoe replied, “How are you? Everything okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, no Zoe,” Connor said, trying his hardest to reassure her, “I’m totally fine. Just wanted to talk...you know?”</p><p>“Okay,” Zoe said, “shoot. What do you want to talk about?”</p><p>“I dunno, just, wanted to see how you’re doing, I guess,” Connor replied which seemed to be all that Zoe needed to launch into a spiel about her courses at school, the new person she was dating and her job at the local bookstore. As</p><p>Connor laid back against his pillows and ran his fingers through Rocky’s coat, he marvelled at just how much things had changed and softened between him and Zoe over the years. From being best friends to hating each other's guts, to trying to build their relationship back up from absolute rock bottom to where it was now. He regretted all the time they spent mad at each other in high school, mostly all his fault, but he was glad they were getting somewhere now.</p><p>They talked for probably close to two hours before Zoe’s phone died, at which point, Connor decided to leave his university phone call for tomorrow and sent off a quick text to Evan.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>heading off to bed now</p>
  <p>love you</p>
  <p>sleep well</p>
  <p>&lt;3</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen [&lt;3]:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Love you too sleepy head.</p>
  <p>Talk tomorrow?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>of course</p>
  <p>i dont think i have a pass for tomorrow though</p>
  <p>so...facetime?</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen [&lt;3]:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>only if you’re up to it</p>
  <p>&lt;3</p>
  <p>sleep in for once</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I would if I could luv</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen [&lt;3]:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>I know.</p>
  <p>Still.</p>
  <p>Just let me know.</p>
  <p>We’ll sort something out.</p>
  <p>But seriously,</p>
  <p>Go to sleep</p>
  <p>I love you</p>
  <p>Talk tomorrow &lt;3</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>&lt;3</p>
</blockquote><p>With that, Connor clicked off his phone, plugged it in and laid back on his pillows. Falling asleep with a smile on his face for once, Connor thought, “I could get used to this.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me, violently banging on my desk [chanting]: tWo MoRe ChApTeRs!  TwO mOrE cHaPtErS!</p><p>...</p><p>Anyone starting school tomorrow?  I know I am.  I also know I said that I'd try to get this story done before I started classes but look where we are now.  I'm hoping that the next two days aren't too hard or busy so that I'll get some writing time, but honestly?  Don't expect miracles.  It may take longer (2 or 3 days per chapter) to finish off these last ones or they may be delayed till the weekend, I really don't know.  </p><p>Still.  Thank you all again for all the support and encouragement on this story and I look forward to wrapping it up with y'all!</p><p>Also, on a super random note, do any of you guys remember the feeling of quitting your first job?  I know I do.  I worked at the same place from the time I was 15 till I was 18 and when I finally quit, it was so bittersweet.  Like this weird loyalty, you have to it?  I dunno.  Maybe I'm crazy.  But if this spoke to anyone, speak up!  I'd love to hear about your first jobs.</p><p>Lastly...FIRST SNOWFALL OF THE YEAR...I'm so siked.  I live in Canada, so honestly not surprised it snowed today, but still.  My college-aged-ass screamed like a toddler when I saw it.  Best feeling ever.  After all the bullcrap of 2020, seeing snow again just felt so amazing.  </p><p>Anyways, spiel over, good luck at school tomorrow everyone!<br/>- MRT</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. More Than Survive - Epilogue Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW(s)<br/>- brief mentions of past events in this story</p><p>[This chapter takes place roughly a year from the start of the story, ie, September again]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Evan changed in his office at the Ellison State Park Ranger Station, he kept one eye on the face of his phone - laying upright on his desk amongst the reports he had been working on getting through just minutes ago before his shift ended. He was waiting for a text from Connor, announcing his, Rocky and Cooper’s - Connor’s next ESA in-training’s - presence in the parking lot.</p><p>Stripping out of his beige uniform and into something much more suited for the unusually warm September weather, Evan ran his fingers through his hair. The curls had been cut off recently, now just a very soft layer of fuzz that Connor liked pressing his cheek against when they were falling asleep together - on a normal-sized bed finally - at Evan’s house.</p><p>It had been a couple of months ago already when Heidi suggested that Connor move in. She already was living entirely on the main floor with Evan on the second, so it was really no problem for Connor to move in permanently. They’d talked about it at length that night. How Connor didn’t want to intrude into Evan and his mother’s life. How he wasn’t sure his mother would be okay having one dog - now two - living in their house on a regular basis.</p><p>But they talked it through like they tried to do with any conflict in their lives. They sat down and tried to be mature about their problems. Because both of them had done enough therapy in their lives to know that nothing was going to be solved by doing nothing and that there was usually something else going wrong when they couldn’t agree. Another underlying cause.</p><p>Because neither of them were perfect. Evan still let himself spiral into a hole of anxiety, self-doubt and occasionally, self-hatred. Connor still lashed out on occasion, still had bad days when his mood dropped off without warning, still was able to panic himself silly. Though, they worked through it now. They had the proper supports in place for the days when the world felt like it was going to eat them whole. When they felt like they were drowning alone. They had people to help.</p><p>And now Connor had Cooper, who unlike Rocky, had actually come from a training program specifically to help out with issues like depression and panic. Rocky, while helpful, had never gone through a training course. He just had a natural aptitude to understand Connor. So he got to hang out with Cooper as the two-year-old German Shepard completed tasks that Rocky never could. Rocky still went to school with Connor, still went to work with him as well, but when nightmares and panic attacks plagued his dreams, Cooper was there. When he couldn’t get out of bed and get his meds, Cooper could. When he’d accidentally kicked his boots just out of his still limited range of mobility, Cooper would drag them back.</p><p>Evan was nervous at first that Connor was going to feel bad about having two service animals. About not being able to love them equally. Because he knew Connor. He knew that his boyfriend would have problems with that because he was totally the kid who felt bad if he didn’t sleep with his teddy-bears equally enough. But Connor was full of surprises and so was Cooper. Within weeks, it was like Cooper had been there all along.</p><p>As Evan buttoned up the collar of the green striped polo shirt he’d brought as his change of clothes, Evan’s phone screen lit up with a text from Connor.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>were here</p>
  <p>you done yet</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>yup.</p>
  <p>Just heading out now</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Connor Murphy: </strong>
  </p>
  <p>meet you at the bench</p>
  <p>
    <strong>Evan Hansen:</strong>
  </p>
  <p>sounds good</p>
</blockquote><p>Turning off the lights to his office, Evan closed the door and took a quick look at the sign. The sign that he’d never once thought he’d see posted on this door when he’d been hired in the summer before the twelfth grade.</p><p>
  <em>Office of the Primary Wardens of Ellison State Park, Anguss McDougall and Evan Hansen</em>
</p><p>Shaking his head at himself as he waved goodbye to his coworkers, Evan wondered if it was possible to be proud of yourself. If that was a thing that could happen. Or maybe he was feeling something else entirely, but it felt like he was proud of himself. For making it this far. For Guss to consider him an equal. To even be considered for the internal promotion.</p><p>Stepping out the front door, Evan headed towards the red park bench that he’d asked Connor to meet him at, at the pancake breakfast, almost exactly a year ago now. It became their meeting spot. Going for a walk at Ellison? Meet at the bench. Rocky slips his leash and Evan has to go chase him down while Connor waits with Cooper? Meet at the bench.</p><p>Greeting Connor with a hug and a kiss before planting a kiss on the tops of both of their fur babies heads, he accepted Cooper’s soft leash from Connor and they started into the forest. With a smile, Evan watched as Connor’s gait seemed a lot more natural and considerably less stiff today. Of course, it was hard to see the progress he was making in physio from day to day, because he saw him every single day. But Alana had commented last time they’d gone out for coffee together that he looked a lot less stiff. Now, Evan thought he could see what she meant.</p><p>“How was work?” Evan asked, holding Connor’s hand - both of their outside hands keeping the dogs in check.</p><p>“Pretty good actually,” Connor said, “got the last piece framed for the art show today, so now everything just has to go up on the walls tomorrow so they can test the lighting on Friday to be ready for it to open on Saturday.</p><p>Connor hadn’t let Evan see what art he’d submitted to the art show and sale that the gallery he worked at was hosting. He said he wanted it to be a secret. Why? Evan wasn’t entirely sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Connor had shown his mom because she had been acting weird lately. That and she’d gotten her Saturday afternoon shift off from work to come with them to the show.</p><p>The anxiety in his brain told him to freak out. That it was going to be something bad and that was why Connor refused to tell him what he’d entered. But, on the other hand, he was pretty sure that Heidi would have punched him if it was something bad. Evan just wasn’t the biggest fan of surprises. But for Connor, he’d wait. He’d finally managed to get some art - even though it was only four pieces - into a legitimate show. It wouldn’t have gotten in if it was something bad. Logic, Evan told himself, logic and facts.</p>
<hr/><p>Evan stood at the window to the bedroom that he’d called his own for as many years of his life as he could remember, just looking out at the stars and remembering how vibrant they had looked out at the Great Divide. Out on the hill at Ellison. How those memories felt like forever ago now. How far they’d both come in just a year.</p><p>“Hey beautiful,” Connor said, pressing the entire length of his front against Evan’s back, wrapping his arms around Evan’s waist - the one holding a mug snaking around very carefully.</p><p>Evan snorted when he saw which mug it was. The left-handed coffee cup painted to look like a mug of beer that he’d made on their second real date. Evan’s awkward looking tree mug was around somewhere too, but he didn’t know exactly where it had ended up. He’d forgotten about them until he’d gotten the email reminder to go pick them up. Connor had still been in the hospital at the time and they hadn’t been sure if he’d wake up, let alone remember that he’d painted the mug in the first place. Sometimes, Evan couldn’t believe Connor was still here, standing right behind him, in the flesh.</p><p>“Hey you,” Evan said, tilting his head back to accept a kiss from his tall boyfriend.</p><p>“We should go camping again soon,” Connor muttered into the soft fuzz near Evan’s ear.</p><p>“You read my mind,” Evan replied, gently taking the mug from Connor’s hand and placing it on the window sill. Turning around so he could face Connor properly, he smoothed the hair that had already managed to escape its shower-dampened bun back behind his ears.</p><p>“Maybe we’ll go in the summer,” Evan suggested, “since you’re at the gallery now and I have a park to run.”</p><p>“In the summer,” Connor replied softly, if not a little sadly. Like he couldn’t quite believe that Evan was willing to plan for the summer. More than six months away. He knew Connor still had a hard time grasping the concept of a plan that much time in the future.</p><p>“Hey,” Evan said, tilting Connor’s chin so he looked right into his eyes, “It's okay to make plans for the future, remember? I’m here, long as you’ll let me be.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor said, before adding a little, “sorry,” onto the end.</p><p>“Nope, not sorry,” Evan said, kissing Connor for reassurance.</p><p>“That sounds like fun,” Connor said with a small crooked smile, “I can’t wait.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Evan replied before adding, “you know when I said we need to try to do more than just survive?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor said, tugging Evan closer.</p><p>“This is it,” Evan explained, “We’re making plans for the future. We’re making plans together.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor agreed, a certain glint in his eyes that Evan wasn’t sure he could read fully, a real smile painting his features, “together.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Are you guys excited?</p><p>--Edit--<br/>Pressed post too soon, fixed formatting errors</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Marry Me, My Prince - Epilogue Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No TWs, POV Heidi.  </p><p>This is it guys!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heidi remembered almost two months ago when Connor had come home from work holding a rather large canvas wrapped up in brown packing paper. It wasn’t unusual these days for him to have a sketchbook under an arm as he struggled to open the door while controlling two dogs or to be balancing a small canvas on top of a cardboard packing box. But this canvas was much larger than anything she’d ever seen him bring home with him.</p><p>He’d lugged it up to the second floor without making any mention of it in passing, but when he came back downstairs to grab his customary after-work cup of tea, both Cooper and Rocky unleashed and trailing at his heels, he still had it with him. Connor had set it down on the kitchen table wordlessly and Heidi had watched as Rocky bumped the top of his head against the backside of his left thigh. So, he’d come down to ask her a question. A question that was making him anxious.</p><p>They made small talk as Connor let the water in the kettle boil and once he’d made his cup of tea, she’d just asked, “did you have something you wanted to show me,” while gesturing to his wrapped up canvas.</p><p>“Yeah, kind of,” Connor said, putting his tea down on the countertop and going back to his creation. It was only about two by three feet big, but as Connor unfastened the tap holding together his packing job at the back, she saw what he’d painted.</p><p>It was beautiful.</p><p>She’d known that Connor was a good artist. The amount of stuff he’d brought home and from what Evan had told her, she wasn’t surprised to see his piece in front of her. But there was something different about this one. It wasn’t exactly photorealistic, but it was pretty close and she knew exactly what it was a painting of.</p><p>It was of Evan himself. In shades of blue, green and gold, it was only the back of his head and the right side of his face. If you didn’t know Evan well, Heidi bet that you wouldn’t be able to tell it was him. But seeing that face every day for the past twenty-two years, it was undeniable. He was looking up at the sky as a band of the milky way swirled over his head, a shoulder leaning backwards as if he was holding onto the viewer’s hand. Connor’s hand.</p><p>In the bottom corner that had no paint on it - likely to be hidden with a frame - in Connor’s upper-cased scrawl, it read, <em>“marry me, my prince?”</em></p><p>He’d looked up at her shyly and had just barely managed to croak out, “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”</p><p>Now, stepping out of her old beater car from where she’d parked it next to Connor’s, she walked into the gallery and couldn’t help but feel a couple of butterflies in her stomach for both of her boys.</p><p>Over the past couple of months, since Connor had moved in, she’d grown to feel like the taller boy was a second son, of sorts, to her. Aside from the fact that he very obviously loved her own son with every inch of his being, he was a really lovely kid. And yes, she still saw the two of them as kids, even though they were both now almost twenty-three. They’d always be her kids.</p><p>Inside the gallery, she could see Connor sitting at the welcome desk - his paid position - but dressed in a very different outfit from what he’d been wearing when he’d left the house that morning. In a purple button-up with a flowered bow tie and his hair tied up into a tight man-bun, Connor looked like he was meant to have his art displayed in a gallery.</p><p>“Hey honey,” Heidi said, waving and feeling the sleeve of the dress that she’d chosen to wear swish awkwardly against the underside of her arm. Watching Connor look up from his computer monitor and see his face light up when he saw her was all she needed to know that her son had found the right guy.</p><p>“Heidi,” Connor said, standing up from his chair and rounding the desk to hug her. It was awkward due to the extreme height difference, but Heidi didn’t mind.</p><p>Connor hadn’t had parents growing up.  Sure, one would typically define them as parents. Legal guardians, sure. Biological material donors, perhaps, was a better term. If she could provide him maternally loving hugs, she’d give out as many as he could stand.</p><p>“All ready?” she asked when he pulled away.</p><p>“Yup, everything is up on the walls. Um, you can go look if you want. When Evan gets here...I’ll, you know…,” Connor stumbled.</p><p>“Connor, breathe,” Heidi said, “Evan loves you so much. Everything will be fine darling, but yes, I will go take a look around. There are three you did right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Connor said with a shy smile and a nervous laugh, “They’re not all in the same place though, so you might have to look a little.”</p><p>“I’m looking forward to it,” Heidi said with a smile as she turned to go look for the three paintings.</p><p>The first one was pretty easy to find and almost as soon as she turned into the display hall, she picked it out. Like his other two, it was almost photorealistic and was based on a picture of Rocky as a puppy. She remembered seeing the picture sitting out on the desk in the upstairs bonus room that Connor had claimed for his art when she’d brought a basket of Evan’s laundry to his room. A picture of a small brown puppy, staring up at the photographer - likely Connor himself - with a look of such adoration that Heidi had ever seen before on her own son.</p><p>On Evan, when he looked at Connor when he thought she couldn’t see. When they were seated on the couch next to each other, watching a movie. When Connor would fall asleep and Evan would just stare at him with this look on his face that tugged on Heidi’s heartstrings and made her want to cry happy tears.</p><p>The painting wasn’t priced, which Heidi knew. Only one of the pieces Connor was actually planning on selling, and, well, she understood why he’d want to keep this one in particular.</p><p>She was able to spot the one he was planning on selling next. In a similar colour scheme to Rocky’s, a set of mountains were surrounded by trees in shades of yellow, orange and red. It was stunning, but as she turned to look around the gallery, her eye immediately caught on the one that Connor had shown her a couple of months back.</p><p>There had been some additions and alterations made to it, but overall, the painting looked the same. Unlike the other two, this one was in shades of blue, green, gold and was significantly bigger. It was mounted in a picture frame that looked like Connor had added high-quality plastic leaves to, which fit the rest of the painting amazingly.</p><p>Taking a couple of steps closer, she saw the little plaque beside the painting and felt her breath catch. Even though she’d known that was what Connor was going to write, seeing inked onto the card made her heart leap. It was so perfect and as she pulled back a little from the painting, she wiped a tear away from her cheek.</p><p>It was perfect.</p><p>Heading back to the front desk, where Evan was now standing and talking with Connor, she pulled her son in for a hug and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Both of the boys were dressed up nicely, Evan’s blue dress shirt and jacket not matching Connor, but it matched, in a weird way.</p><p>Just like the two of them, Heidi thought with a smile. The artist and the park ranger. An unlikely, but perfect combination.</p><p>When Connor had first approached her about the painting in the first place, Heidi had wondered - but hadn’t actually asked - if he was planning on telling his own parents. She remembered meeting the Murphy’s at a school council meeting once. They were rude, abrupt and just didn’t seem to understand much about actually being parents. So really, Heidi was glad they weren’t here tonight. It was a night for Connor to enjoy, and, by extension, Evan as well.</p><p>Though, looking around a little, she was able to spot Connor’s sister and one of their other friends that Heidi briefly met once, but whose name she couldn’t remember. They were looking at some of the artwork close to Connor and Evan, but not close enough that it was like they were interrupting or eavesdropping on the boys.</p><p>There were still very few people around the gallery when Connor pushed off the entry desk and suggested that they go take a walk through the isles. Heidi watched as he pocketed something off the desk - which Evan didn’t seem to notice - as they headed towards the rows of art. Connor’s sister and friend followed, and Heidi, trailing along behind extricated her phone from the small pocket of her dress.</p><p>When Evan was little, she filmed everything. From the first time he climbed a tree to his kindergarten graduation. Then, when Mark left, she was suddenly significantly busier and the camera got tucked away for very important occasions. Graduations from middle school, junior high, high school. But even then, few and far between.</p><p>Maybe she ought to start filming more of Evan’s life, now, she realized that filming the important moments of her son’s life, this was most certainly one of them. Maybe one of the most important of his life.</p><p>They looked at Rocky’s painting, some of the other gallery-goers recognizing the dog that was trailing behind them and commenting on it. Cooing, but thankfully heeding the vest warnings on and not actually interacting with Rocky directly. With one hand, Connor had his fingers laced with Evan’s and Rocky’s leash wrapped around the other.</p><p>Connor kept looking over his shoulder at where Heidi knew the last painting was. She wanted to reach out to the taller boy and tell him to calm down like Evan usually did. But She couldn’t and found herself stuck watching him spin around inside his own head as Rocky licked at his fingers.</p><p>Evan pressed a kiss to Connor’s temple after they looked at the Great Divide painting and headed towards the last one.</p><p>Watching as her son saw the third and final painting, the one of himself, he seemed to be transfixed. Like he couldn’t take his eyes off it. She watched Connor watching Evan, pressing record on her phone.</p><p>When Evan finally spoke, his voice was feeble and he didn’t take his eyes off the painting, “Connor, is this me?”</p><p>Connor said nothing but gently dug through the pocket of his dress pants, extricating a small box.</p><p>When it seemed that Evan realized that he hadn’t gotten an answer, he turned slowly to face Connor, who took both of his hands - Rocky and Cooper’s leashes already passed over to his sister’s friend.</p><p>“Connor what-...,” Evan whispered when his eyes passed over Heidi’s phone and the small crowd that had started gathering. Like he was suddenly connecting all the dots at the same time.</p><p>“Yeah, it's you,” Connor confirmed before swallowing and saying, “it's not the first time I saw you, obviously, because that would have been back in elementary school, but this was the first time <em>I saw you</em>. When you told me the knight in shining armour story. You said I was your knight in shining armour, and...and I almost took that away from you. From the both of us. I want to make plans together for tomorrow and for the summer and for years in the future. I want to do more together and I want it to last for as long as you’ll have me.”</p><p>Slowly and gingerly going down onto one knee and revealing the box that he’d had folded into his palm, Connor looked up at Evan, and asked, “Mark Evan Hansen, will you marry me?”</p><p>When Evan leaped at Connor, not even letting him get to his feet, the two boys wrapped their arms around each other, their faces buried in each other’s collars as everyone who had been watching started clapping.</p><p>Over the noise that everyone was making, Heidi could just barely make out Evan saying, “Of course, Connor, of course, Connor. I love you.”</p><p>Pulling back and helping Connor to his feet, Connor slid the bluish-silver band onto Evan’s finger and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, guys, this is it.  Don't Let Go is finally wrapped.  I had been procrastinating on writing this channel because I didn't want this story to be over.  </p><p>This started as a weird idea that I had one night coming home on the train and morphed into the longest story I've ever posted online.  I am immensely grateful for everyone who took the time to open this book and read it, leave kudos or leave comments. If you've made it this far, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking the time to read it.  </p><p>I also wanted to say a super special thank you to MysteriousMidnight and RaspberryRaven for your comments that have seriously kept the life in this story and helped keep the motivation going even when I didn't know what I was doing.  </p><p>I know a lot of you guys don't want to see this story wrap up, but even the best things have to end.  So, Until next time, stay safe y'all.</p><p>MRT, signing off<br/>&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story will not have an upload schedule, but I'm hoping every three or four days a new chapter will get posted.  </p><p>I'm basing Evan's social anxiety off of what I've gathered from the musical, the musical-book and the YA novel, as well as my own experiences with crippling social anxiety.  </p><p>As well, the park ranger aspects and descriptions are based on my job as a ranger at a National Park in Canada, so if some things seem off, that is why.  </p><p>Lastly, if you have an emotional support animal or just a dog in general and would be willing to comment with some general ideas/aspects of having one that you think would help make this authentic, I will readily accept anything as I do not have any experience with animals what so ever.  </p><p>If you like this, leave a kudos, drop a comment so I know that this is something work continuing!  Thanks for taking the time out of your day to read this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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